A Most Rueful Comedy
by Sabverus
Summary: Severus Snape finally meets his match in this well written drama, humor and everything else about our snarly professor and the erudite yet callow Yank that intrigues him. SSOC
1. Mirror, Mirror

This is the original. The one that started it all. It was written originally in a role-playing game, and so in some places the structure may seem odd to you, the reader. Sometimes, guide sentences have been added to help you understand, such as "Later that day...", etc. Unless specified otherwise, all chapters were written in more or less equal partnership by Lindsay and Eileen. We truly hope you enjoy this, we put our heart and soul into it. A final warning: DO NOT STEAL! Do not steal our plot or our characters (the originals, that is). It's low, immature, and really just rude. Now, on with the show!

This chapter contains bits written by the superb Oportet Exquisitus players; including the dauntless Theodore Nott and the lovely Miss Palgea Bones.

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Teenaged girls were sometimes difficult to understand; Sabine knew this well. As it was, having spent the better part of the week properly arranging her new apartments at the school, Ms. Trefethen had decided to better know the corridors of Hogwarts- and thus come to find further evidence of said fact.

She was a tall, thin girl of fifteen or sixteen, with a charming brown crop and the cinched waist of a magically reared young woman. There was no blatant disfigurement to leave her appearance wanting, and yet, there she stood before a long, gilded reflective glass, sulking and tugging at her clothing and hair as it coolly pointed out the slightest hint of extra bulge around the hips, the cowlick behind her ear and the blemish just below the cowlick.

Naturally, it was in Sabine's best interest to ensure that those around her were at least not entirely miserable; so, it was her pleasure to hastily shoo the Hufflepuff girl away from the disagreeable device. Nevertheless, once the girl had gone from eyesight, Sabine was obliged to turn to the mirror and run a palm across her cheek.

"You've a wart coming just to the right of your eye, madam."

"You don't want to stand about looking at that thing," Theodore Nott said, coming up behind Trefethen. He hadn't realized who she was from the back of her head, but as he came closer, he realized that she wasn't a student.

"Oh, sorry, Ma'am. You're one of those substitute professors, yes? Anyway, you don't want to spend your time looking at that bloo - that mirror. Drove Tracey Davis to tears the last time she glanced in it, and Tracey isn't exactly hard on the eyes. I don't know why the mirror is still hanging here. Probably Dum - Professor Dumbledore. He has a peculiar sense of humor."

Theodore wasn't quite sure why he was talking so familiarly to the professor, except that she was only a substitute, and she was good looking despite being old enough to be his mother. And she didn't know him well enough to have judged him yet. That would make for a nice change. Undoubtedly, she'd soon learn what an impossible young man he was in the Professors' lounge, but until then... and anyway, Theodore felt no real reason to be particularly respectful. She was only a substitute, and Theodore thought he remembered her being an American too, one of those Colonials.

Ms. Trefethen looked at the mirror thoughtfully, fingernail tracing the supposed wart-to-be. Having decided that she had had enough, the woman turned to regard Theodore.

"Most magical mirrors that I've encountered are remarkably similar in their purposes to this one. I have a personal theory that the spells used to entice it to criticize before the 1940's or so were a touch too strong." This has been a miniature history lesson, courtesy of Sabine Trefethen.

Folding her arms: "I don't suppose a positively charming young man like you could direct me to the History of Magic classroom?"

"Are you teaching History of Magic, then?" Theodore asked. He immediately wished to retract that statement - of course she was. Who else but a History Prof would know (of care) about enchanted mirrors circa 1940?

"It's on the first floor. Head down like you were going to the Great Hall; only take a sharp left next to that portrait of the goblins torturing the monk, and then the next staircase you come across. I can take you, if you want."

He smiled ingratiatingly, a comeback to her rather sarcastic pejorative "charming". Theodore could be charming. If he wanted to be. In fact, Theodore decided, he would be as charming as he possibly could, just to annoy her.

"Please. Allow me to escort you. I have break for the next few minutes, so I'd be more than happy to show you around the school and its grounds."

"I am exploring my new territory," Sabine said coolly, turning in the direction of the Great Hall and examining the way. She had only just been past that very appealing painting a moment ago; it had been next to that tapestry of the woman at a weaving wheel.

"I would thank you for it if you would," she said afterward, turning back to Theodore. He humored her; that was admirable. "Though naturally, I wouldn't think a gentleman to take a lady anywhere without introducing himself first."

With a small bow, hand behind his back, Theodore said, "Theodore Nott, milady. I'm in the sixth year. Might I enquire of your own name?"

Theodore smiled slightly, a glint in his eye. It was a game, to him - he could be charming as long as he wanted to, if he found it amusing. Theodore found this professor amusing, with her frostiness and her Yankee twang. Of course, it wouldn't do to say so; it would spoil the game.

The idea of escorting this ... lady about the castle grounds was hilarious, though. Theodore didn't know much about the proper etiquette in such a situation - his father hadn't been around to do much of that sort of teaching, and his tutors had never given much instruction outside of Latin. All he knew he'd picked up from watching others at social functions, and from listening in the Slytherin common room. That, plus the fact that this ... lady was quite old enough to be his mother, was sure to cause some hilarity.

"I am Sabine Trefethen," she replied with a small nod. "Miss Trefethen to you, I suppose."

In America, in the circles within which Sabine ran, this sort of circumstance was not uncommon- young people were often better informed of their surroundings, and as Theodore was apt to know the halls of Hogwarts better than Sabine, she found it very natural to ask him to tour her.

This, then, was why Sabine was only amused in the sense that Theodore didn't seem to know exactly what he was doing. She recognized that air; too- she had seen it often in her time. "Well then, Mr. Nott- lead the way?" She gestured towards the staircase.

"Of course," Theodore said, and, his tongue firmly planted in his cheek, offered the Professor his arm. Not that he expected her to take it...

Theodore headed down the hallway, watching as a few stragglers ran off to their classes. Theodore did have a break, but that was only because he'd failed his Ancient Runes OWL; most other students were in classes. As he walked, he pointed out various useful landmarks.

"That staircase to your left shifts three times a day, four if it's feeling cranky. It usually leads up to the fifth floor, but if you annoy it - it's a very touchy staircase - it might take you somewhere unexpected, like the dungeons, despite the fact that it usually goes up."

Theodore prattled on for a bit until they came to the staircase leading down to the first floor. "Now, these stairs are usually stable. They've only changed on me once, that I can remember, and that was because the Bloody Baron - have you met him? - was arguing with Peeves, and Peeves was throwing things. I think the poor stairs just wanted to get away from the noise. Anyway, these stairs always lead to the first floor, and they always return to this landing. Got that? Ma'am?"

Theodore smiled, the picture of a charming young student, very proper in his black robes with their shined silver buckles. The picture of a respectful young wizard.

Right.

It was a policy of Sabine's to ignore almost any limb extended to her; actually, more habit. In her previous years she had shaken hands with one too many kids who were a tad prank happy.

"Much like the dumbwaiter at my school," she reminisced in response to Theodore's speculation on the staircase. Of course, put it to a wizard to create a machine large enough for a small human to climb into, and simultaneously make that machine travel to completely arbitrary rooms. "As for the Bloody Baron, I've never had the pleasure. He sounds pleasant."

Miss Trefethen gave Theodore another assured nod, eyes settling on the previously discussed painting. "I believe I do. You're really quite an invaluable young man. I may have to keep you in my employ for similar future instances."

The thought of being at the beck and call of the formidable Miss Trefethen made Theodore feel a bit nervous. One day of showing her around, fine. He most certainly did not want to be tied to her, however, and the thought of ending up as her errand-runner or lapdog made him feel distinctly queasy. Still, he could slide out of that if the time came.

Not sure if he should precede Miss Trefethen down the staircase (was he supposed to do one of those "after you" my lady things, or, as the guide, was he supposed to lead the way?) Theodore settled for just saying, "Well, down we go, then," and heading down the stairs.

"Alright then. Soon as you're on this first floor landing - or anywhere on the first floor, really - you head like you're going to the Great Hall, down this way to the right. It's a fairly quick walk from here, down to that portrait of the Goblin - there it is, see?"

Theodore stopped right in front of the painting, and dispassionately observed that the Goblins seemed to be making some headway -the last time he'd checked, they hadn't gotten the monk quite so stretched out on their rack.

Palgea stared hard at the painting, trying to force her color down for the moment. The humiliation of being caught in front of the mirror stung more than Palgea would have thought. She didn't think of herself as vain and didn't want a teacher thinking she was just another feather brained Hufflepuff fool who carried around industrial quantities of Extraordinary Mary's Hair Tamer in a Bottle lotion. Which she did carry, but still she didn't exactly want a teacher thinking that.

The witch within the frame sulked with her, sighing agitatedly in her bonds. The young man at her feet struggled to get the bonfire going again while the angry crowd of peasants shouted encouragement, advice and quite a few insults. The poor fellow looked nearly in tears. A heresy burning really was no fun if there wasn't any fire.

Waiting to see if the man had any luck, Palgea waited and her mind drifted back to the mirror. It was hideous, perfectly hideous. Her flat stomach had ballooned and her thighs suddenly bulged. When Palgea had tried smoothing over an errant cowlick her hair instead curled out with a vengeance.

She had never intended to find the mirror in the first place. Arithmancy had been cancelled after the substitute teacher lost his papers so the whole afternoon had become pregnant with opportunity. The obedient Hufflepuff had been off to the library when she got off the wrong staircase. She should have known better by now.

Hideous, perfectly hideous it was. The painting suddenly burst into loud jeers as the man sobbed; abruptly killing the few flames that were beginning to emerge from the straw. Palgea backed away, rallying her spirits with the promise of a session of pumpkin juice and the new copy of Enchantment she'd been saving. She turned around and found herself face to face with the same teacher.

Really now, this was just unfair. The same teacher? And a boy her age to top it all off. Again her cheeks reddened while she said "Miss, we meet again"

Severus stood in the doorway of a closet he used to store cauldrons of sizes larger or smaller than standard. It was at a convenient enough location to his dungeons, if the staircase could be persuaded to abstain from changing its course of direction.

Observing the gathering crowd at the bottom of the stairs, he sneered slightly. Students. The vain little Hufflepuff girl... He had confiscated at least four pocket mirrors from her. And Theodore Nott... Difficult to believe the boy was in Severus' own House, insolent little fool... He had heard about the boy's failure in Ancient Runes... Embarrassing, to say the least.

But... Was that a teacher? He concluded that it must be. He had never seen the tall woman before, but he recalled Albus' brief description of her at the last staff meeting, when the Headmaster had informed them of the upcoming arrival. New teachers were needed, since... His left forearm tensed, and he directed his mind to other things.

"Stop dawdling in the halls, Miss Bones." He hissed, staring coldly at the girl. "I'm certain you have somewhere to be. Somewhere else." He finished pointedly.

The Potions Master turned his attention on the youth of his House and his adult companion. "Nott. I see you've made a friend." Severus inclined his head slightly. "Ms. Sabine Trefethen, I presume? I do not believe we have met. Though it is possible," He eyed the boy, smirking, "You know me by reputation." Flourishing a hand in mockery of an elaborate bow, Severus introduced himself. "Severus Snape, Potions Master of this school."

Sabine, being aware of such a particular bit of etiquette, opted to spare the boy's ego and her own already delicate balance of time and duty, and descended alongside of him. Not that anyone could actually tell, but she was, in fact, joking previously- she had little time to be shepherded by students; if she was in need of an escort she would habitually seek out a professor that didn't seem to be easily annoyed.

"Yes," was the abrupt answer to Palgea. Sabine eyed her for only a moment with something like disdainful empathy before turning towards the commanding sound of a man's voice.

He was pure of blood, she guessed immediately. The air and sense of fashion led her to that belief, and yet, there was something in his apparent lack of concern for his appearance and in his apparent intent to leave a less than stellar impression with her that didn't quite fit with her (somewhat romanticized) perception of a British gentleman. It was something new, though.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Snape. You have heard of me, and I have never heard of you." That was only partially true; she distinctly recalled Abigail Brooke raving about an ugly sort of man by that name appearing in 12 Grimmauld Place previous to the school year. Sabine decided that this person must be one in the same.

"Surprising." Severus replied mildly, looking down his considerable nose at the boy. "The students in Hogwarts have a habit of making their opinions irrevocably clear. Nott, if Professor Trefethen is finished with your admirable scouting skills, I believe you may be on your way. I'm sure such a bright student can find some way to occupy himself." He sneered, then turned once again to the woman. "And of you, madam, I confess I know very little. Perhaps there will be opportunity to rectify this general state of unfamiliarity."

_Stop dawdling in the halls, Miss Bones. I'm certain you have somewhere to be. Somewhere else . _

Already the article was formulating in her brain: "Snape Strikes Back". Enchantment and even Jinx would take it in a flash. How could they not? Nearly all their Hogwarts readers had met with the infamous Snape one time or another. When she had sent in the story about losing four pocket mirrors in a row the supportive reader response was enormous. She'd even gotten a response from adult women who had Snape when they were at Hogwarts. He had a lot of potential. Maybe she could suggest turning into a series: "Snape Stories" or better yet, "Snape Bite". See, even the title was catchy.

But there were more pressing matters at hand. Namely, not losing any house points. They were already trailing the other houses.

Now that her brain was finally moving in a more focused direction, Palgea realized that the other teacher's presence was actually quite fortunate. Otherwise, Snape might not have been quite so patient. So Palgea gave a hurried nod and tugged on the robes of the Slytherin boy in indication for him to leave too. After all, she was a Hufflepuff. She didn't wish for anyone to get hurt. Furthermore, he'd been in her Ancient Runes class before he got failed in it. He hadn't seemed to be quite the sharpest chap when it came to not offending teachers.

Theodore Nott was furious.

Point-blank furious. First some nosy little Hufflepuff -expletive- wandered in, and then Snape had to show up.

Bloody Snape. Might be head of Slytherin House, but damned if Snape ever showed any of that good ol' Slytherin favoritism to HIM. Oh, Snape might fawn over Malfoy, but Nott - son of a Death Eater too - got the cold shoulder from Snape.

Not that Theodore would want any friendliness or respect from Malfoy's boot-licker.

God damn Snape. God damn Miss Trefethen, God damn Hufflepuff House, and God damn just about everybody right now.

"Get your hands off of me!" Theodore barked to the bloody Hufflepuff. Like the stupid -expletive- had the right to touch him!

Not bothering to make any polite good-byes, Theodore turned on his heel and stalked off, muttering, intentionally audibly, "Slimy bastard."

Who cared if he got a week of detention? Insulting Snape was always enjoyable in a certain, detached way. Like sticking your hand in the fire for longer and longer amounts of time - the risk made it fun, almost enough to compensate for when you got burned.

"Of course we will," Sabine replied, giving Snape a small nod just before Theodore's little outburst. Starting slightly, she watched the boy go from calm to boiling in just a few spilt seconds- and was immediately filled with bemusement and a certain, slight admiration for the hand that had heated the kettle.

As she saw him leave, she made a mental note of the boy- although, if she knew people, this new man seemed the sort to want to punish him later, when he could not be interrupted. Because she was new, Sabine knew better than to interfere. "Spectacular sort of boy. You're very much his favorite, I imagine," she stated grimly, once Theodore and Palgea were gone from earshot.

The hand that had previously been so eager to help, leaped back, as if singed, and withdrew into the safety of a soft pocket.

She than briefly watched the boy stalk off, muttering something or other about Snape.

He had gotten so angry. She was only trying to help the poor boy. Didn't he see that?

No wonder he failed Ancient Runes: the class required a patience that he just didn't seem to have. Frankly, he had looked troubled. Not to be judgmental, but it seemed that Slytherin house attracted more than its fair share of troubled souls. One just needed to look at the headmaster. It was rather sad actually. Maybe he came from one of those Death Eater families that made him do all sorts of terrible things. She'd read about a case just like that the other day. Boy claimed that his father had made him kill a muggle, point blank. It was such a shame.

Not that she was jumping to any conclusions.

She than walked off, her mind full , making quite sure to walk in the opposite direction

Severus' mouth curved in a rare smile. "Yes, the students have a great deal of affection for me, they mention it every time I enter a room." He said wryly, the sardonic nature of his words touched with a genuine, albeit dry humor.

He dropped his voice. "I have heard of you through the Order, and I imagined it could not hurt to acquaint myself with a comrade-in-arms, as it were." This was true in part, but the woman intrigued him. Though she seemed to have more patience with the students than he did, there was an undeniable air of cleverness and intellect about her. "You are American." He raised a brow. It was not a question... the curious twang and lilt of her words, so unlike his own clipped British precision, said it all.

"I agree. I make a point to know my allies, and would have probably had intent to seek you out eventually," she replied with equal caution. Then, raising her voice to normal volume: "New York by way of New Berlin. Perhaps I don't blend in as well I would like," she lamented with a tiny smile of her own.

"Regarding students, it's never been mentioned that an educator must be well-liked. Whether I am myself or not I may never know- relationships with my students seldom exceed the classroom, though I can see how that may change as I spend time at Hogwarts." Again, a cautionary note affected her tone, yet those issues were not the ones about which Ms. Trefethen was most concerned: she did not like to talk as much as she was currently, and yet she felt compelled to give this new man some insight to herself.

Slight hesitation followed, before Sabine opted to steer towards safer ground. "What is your subject?"

Severus raised a brow. "I believe I may have already mentioned it," he smirked, "But I am the Potions Master at this school, and therefore professor to the same subject."

He changed the topic abruptly as his mind touched upon a fact that the woman might enjoy. "I assume you have not yet had opportunity to visit our library?" Her mind seemed to possess an alacrity and agility that would profit from the use of Hogwarts' extensive library.

Good God, her mind was already escaping her. Choosing to remain at least primarily undaunted, Sabine let the brief embarrassment pass with a 'do forgive me' and a moment taken to be grateful that Severus Snape seemed to be a very tactful sort of man.

"I have not." With luck, her words didn't too easily betray her delight at another opportunity to hold intelligent conversation. "Although I may ask you to escort me one evening in the immediate future, presuming that a favor to a lady would not affect your work."

That eyebrow was getting a great deal of exercise, Severus mused, as, seemingly of its own accord, it traveled upward again. It was an expression that had started to come reflexively in a moment of incredulity, suspicion, contempt or mirth.

The mood of the moment, incidentally, was incredulity. "Not at all," he replied, "There are some very old tomes located in the Restricted Section that are fascinating, to say the least."

"Excellent." Sabine had had a Potions teacher once with the very same sort of quirk- Sabine wondered momentarily whether her new acquaintance was simply very amused by her own manner, or whether he simply had an irritated twitch.

"I look forward to it. You may call on me any evening this week that suits you- I have the apartments near the twin bicorn statues in the corridor east of the Great Hall, and the office below." It was less an office than a neatly decorated broom closet, really, but then Sabine didn't expect any visitors that she would need to impress.

Severus nodded, inclining his head in a gesture of assent. "I will do so. At the moment I must go, I have a classroom full of eager-minded third years to educate." He smirked slightly, his sardonic sense of humor once again surfacing to make a brief appearance. "Good afternoon, Ms. Trefethen."

He turned and left, the infamous, sweeping black robes lending him the appearance of a sallow-skinned Muggle priest as long strides carried him down the corridor toward the dungeon staircase.

"Good luck, Mr. Snape," Sabine returned, watching him exit before removing herself to the History of Magic classroom.


	2. An Uneventful Meal

((This chapter contains bits written by the splendid Oportet Exquisitus players; including the incomparable Squealing Fangirl, the ever gallant Theodore Nott, and the brilliant Albus Dumbledore.))

The Great Hall was, unsurprisingly, teeming with students- now that the day was over the population of Hogwarts was permitted to rest and relax. However, an unmistakable air of mystery shrouded the Hall, reflecting itself in the awkwardness of the professors at the head table, in the confusion of the majority of the students, and in the strange absence of food that night- now there was a question. Why was there no food yet provided? It was rather unusual.

Severus Snape studied the general unrest of the Hall with morbid interest. He himself, infamous for cold composure, still believed he betrayed a degree of restiveness. It was admittedly unsettling, the deathly quiet of Hogwarts, in comparison to its usual raucous noise and color.

Sabine Trefethen, too, found the quiet absolutely eerie. Especially coming from Regalus Academy, where the presence of children under fourteen was nonexistent and scandal abounded freely, she was used to laughter, excitement, or a good death threat or two.

More importantly, it was impossible to find a decent cup of coffee in this country. Sabine had noted this deficiency a few mornings prior, and had, upon searching various shops the weekend before, resigned herself to a box of low-quality instant garbage, and a resolution to adjust herself to at least one kind of tea. This evening she had decided on jasmine with her dessert, and wasn't she looking forward to it?

Taking the seat that had been reserved for her, to the left of the Muggle Studies teacher, Sabine watched the Hall quietly and allowed her mind to wonder on the strange vibration she found herself receiving.

Severus observed Sabine looking balefully at the teacup in front of her. "You are not accustomed to the British obsession with tea, I take it?" He asked with a modicum of amusement. The tall woman had taken a different type of tea every night since her arrival and thus far none of them had seemed to please her American palate. In addition to this curious ritual, her presence was a welcome distraction from the disconcerting quiet and he was in his own way enthused over the prospect of intelligent conversation. Or at any rate, conversation with an apparently intelligent person... He could not vouch for how stimulating a discourse on tea varieties would be.

"No," she confessed, regarding the cup with disdain and setting it aside, never once touching it to her lips. "I don't know why I bother." Said teas have been getting more rich and bitter as the days progress, and none of them have served as a proper fix thus far.

Dear old America. Sabine hadn't appreciated the convenience of coffee milked straight from the filter until it was lost to her. This had been how Uncle Demetrius became an alcoholic, she was certain.

"I don't suppose you might suggest an alternative?"

Severus steepled his fingertips, meditating on the rich, complex flavor of coffee and attempting to place a type of tea that would provide an appropriate substitute.

"If it is the rush of caffeine you seek, I would recommend English Breakfast... Despite the name, it is often called for the week of final exams for its unusual awakening properties. Its flavor is, however, nondescript... there is a need to attack it with all manner of additives -sugar, honey, lemon, cream- to coerce the drink into suiting one's taste." His mouth curved in a smirk as an image appeared in his mind of a wizard, armed with a wand, approaching a cup of tea with wary, tentative steps.

"If you prefer the bold flavor," He gestured at the teacup that had accompanied Sabine into the Hall, "Then jasmine would be your last choice... the taste is far too delicate. Perhaps you might try Earl Grey. Personally, I dislike it, but there is no denying that the flavor is unique.

"Darjeeling is a complex tea, the subtle variety of flavors bringing to mind the complexity found in a properly brewed cup of coffee, though the two beverages taste nothing alike." He offered a genuine smile, his sable eyes glittering in amusement. "Or, if you simply cannot live without the real thing, you may always come to my office and enjoy a simple cup of coffee between colleagues."

For a moment, Sabine was struck with the unusual feeling that one gets when one has been briefly educated on the finer points of tea- as if to test her counterpart's theory, Ms. Trefethen brought to her lips the previous discarded teacup and nodded. Perhaps there was something to this man's experience.

After making a brief mental note to send Abby and Tarla for a box of English Breakfast in the case of emergency, Sabine leaned forward slightly, inclining her head towards Severus. "You have at your disposal real coffee? Coffee that would not include the heating of water beforehand?"

Severus laughed softly, the sound completely foreign even to himself. It was not an unpleasant laugh, just one that was rarely heard. Of course, it had been some time since he had been quite this amused... The incredulous expression on the woman's face was priceless.

"Indeed, I do. When I first began teaching here I was puzzled by a particular student's nervous, hyperactive demeanor. The mystery was explained when I confiscated a packet of fresh-ground coffee and took it to the Headmaster. I was very young at the time, I had only been a professor for a matter of months. Albus offered me a cup of the brewed final product and, curious, I tried it. I believe I am now the only Englishman in the country that drinks coffee willingly."

He glanced up at the large clock that hung above the great doorway. "Perhaps you would be interested in sampling some after a visit to the library?" He ventured, still wearing the amused smirk.

"Good God, I may have to marry you out of sheer convenience!" Sabine remarked, setting her teacup down with an absolute 'clink'. "Actually, in retrospect, I completely believe it. You seem to me a coffee-drinking sort of man, if it's not too bold to say. Would I be wrong if I guessed that you take it black?" It was an educated enough hypothesis: they seemed to be alike enough in several other ways.

Then, giving an apprehensive look to the students: "We would not be missed? No, I suppose not."

Sitting surly at the Slytherin table, Theodore Nott gazed around dispassionately. He was displeased to note how chummy Miss - Professor Trefethen seemed to be with Snape. Not fair.

Still, no point sulking, or crying over spilled milk, or whatever. It would be much more constructive to complain loudly about the lack of food.

"Merlin, this place really is the pits. First we get stuck with Yank professors, and now the House Elves won't even bloody well cook the food?"

This was said as loudly as possible, of course, not that Theodore expected it to carry over the crowd. Still, it was gratifying.

Severus raised a brow and chuckled. "I must be careful to avoid such startling revelations in the future, lest further proposals be forthcoming. You would be most unhappy, I suspect." He smirked. "And, you are correct... I can't abide a cup of coffee marred by additives. There is a peculiar, smooth bitterness -if that is not a contradiction -that the drink seems to possess all on its own."

His sensitive ears caught the Nott boy's comments, and Severus sneered as he glanced over the Slytherin table. The youth would suffer most severely for his recent impertinence, in good time. "Ms. Trefethen, in the event that you had not yet noticed my social status... My presence is never missed. Yours, perhaps, in time will prove to be otherwise, but at the moment you have been here for such a short period of time that I doubt there will be any objection. Shall we adjourn?"

"We shall," she agreed, setting her teacup aside and sending a long, curious gaze in Theodore's direction. That was an odd thing, the British obsession with the word 'Yank' and the attitude that went along with it. And tea.

Departing from the table, Sabine allowed herself to fall into step just behind Severus- his pace was easy enough to match, although it required some effort. All the quicker to the library, supposedly.

Dumbledore watched with a smile as Snape and Miss Trefethen talked. He was quite happy to see another professor getting along well with Snape, especially the American lady. Now, more than ever, it was important for the staff of Hogwarts to get along. Fighting Voldemort could be rather difficult with the leaders hexing each other in the back.

On an unrelated manner, the only thing Dumbledore could say with any certainty about the evening meal was that is was not, in fact, on the tables at the moment. The thought occured that he should go to the kitchen and check about it, but dismissed the idea. Checking about the food probably won't make it cook one bit faster.


	3. The Library

Severus held the door open for Sabine as the woman entered the massive library, his black eyes displaying satisfaction at the look of appreciation and interest on the woman's face as she took in the expanse of books.

He'd known she would like it. Perhaps he would introduce her to his private collection... Though he did prize them rather highly... But certainly his fellow intellectual could appreciate the irreplaceable value of a very old, very good book.

There were several other small groups in the library, though it was mostly deserted -no important tests or projects approaching, so why would the students bother studying? Laziness... He detested it. There was even a group of his own Slytherins at a table, their heads bowed, muttering in furious voices. He quirked a brow in momentary curiosity and made a mental note to approach near enough to eavesdrop when he had a free moment.

Oh, and eavesdropping? It may have been poor etiquette, but he was, after all, both a spy and a Slytherin.

Although it may appear so, Sabine was not as prim as she seemed; she, too, had some very bad habits that she found often needed to be glossed over. Those were forgotten, for a moment, as Sabine allowed herself to step forward into the enormous collection of literature. She was really quite dramatic about it: hands spread slightly with palms tilted upwards as she took a few large strides and raised her chin, admiring the aesthetics and, more importantly, the selection of the library.

"Where would I ever begin?" she said quietly, her counterpart not forgotten. "I envy you, sir. This is almost twice the size of the library at my school." Regalus Academy, however, had had a less expansive range of ages; nevertheless, the demand for books there was considerably lower. It didn't matter.

Severus smiled, clearly attempting to prevent another of those uncharacteristic laughs from issuing forth. "If there is a subject in particular you wish to research, our librarian, Madam Pince, is eager to help, if as prickly as a pincushion. Not that I can boast of my own social tact," He added softly, smirking. "Often, in my school days and sometimes even now, I pluck a volume off the shelf at random. Not as intelligent a method, to be sure, but in this library it almost always yields positive results." He sighed, looking about himself. "I regret that my visits here have become increasingly infrequent. Though the use of my personal collection does come with several benefits... Namely, the definite lack of any chattering students." As if on cue, the Slytherin students' discussion grew louder and more fervent, though still unintelligible. Severus frowned and glanced at Sabine. "Excuse me, please."

At the increase in noise, Madam Pince looked up at the unusually talkative professor and glared. He raised a hand in apology as he glided silently closer to the Slytherins' table.

"But Father says that He'll be sending spies into Hogwarts any day now!" A female fifth year stated excitedly. "Perhaps they're already here!" The capitalization of the "H" in "He'll" was obvious in the tone and stress of her voice.

Severus blinked slowly, already assembling a folio in his mind of information he would gather here to be sorted and fitted into the greater puzzle at a later time. He busied himself with a random book, sitting down in an armchair and allowing his eyes to roam over the page so as to appear deeply immersed in the reading of an article on first-year-level Potions.

"He wouldn't come to Hogwarts, would he?" Another student asked. "Not with Dumbledore back?"

"I think so..." The girl replied. "As much as He hates Potter? And I heard Father mentioning to a friend of his that there was something of value left on the grounds last summer."

"What is it?"

"I don't know. But Father said they'll be sending Death Eaters in to search for it after the autumn meeting. I'll bet they know exactly what it is."

"Death Eaters?" A sixth year scoffed. "They'll never get in."

The girl - clearly in charge, despite her diminutive size and pointed, peaky face - slapped the older boy and sneered at him. "They will if they're unregistered Animagi, you git. Doubting the Dark Lord's servants, no wonder your parents took your broom away, you're too incompetent to use it."

"They did not, they..."

Severus rose and wandered away after a moment, when the serious discussion whittled away into teenage bickering and fickle gossip. He regretted that the students of his House were so allured by power and destruction... Then again, he thought bitterly, they always had been.

All that was of use to him had been heard, though he would have given his right lung to know what it was that was being hunted. He would have to ruminate on it, and it seemed that a thorough search of the Hogwarts grounds was in order. After alerting the Headmaster... But was that wise, just yet? His mind was still working as he returned to Sabine and quickly schooled his features into an expression of unconcern.

"Anything of interest?" He asked, gesturing around.

After Snape's temporary departure, Sabine allowed herself to wander into the Defence Against the Dark Arts section, running the tip of her long, poorly manicured index finger along the edge of the shelf as she skimmed the titles of the volumes at her eye level.

Finally, she closed both eyes and reached into the shelf above her, pulling forth a fairly thick and very old record of vampire cases and defeats, particularly detailing the effects of and on muggles involved. Perfect for her: Sabine had been fascinated with vampires and muggle's perpective of them since nicking Bram Stoker's Dracula from Abigail Brooke's private collection in 1977. Her preoccupation with muggle horror novels was not something she was proud of, but an indulgence that she did not deny herself all the same.

Finally, a nod when Severus returned to her side, and a word of agreement, although she didn't yet remove her eyes from the index page of the book.

Severus waited patiently till Sabine had completed the page and looked up at him, whereupon he forced a smile. It appeared forced, he knew, and thus abandoned the effort, attempting to focus on her selection when his mind was irrevocably elsewhere.

"Vampires?" He queried, a knowing smirk gracing his features. "Surely you haven't already begun listening to the students' tales about me?"

The moment of levity was not enough to erase the worry in his thoughts, and he blinked, forcing the offending emotion to the back of his mind and extending the invitation he had promised. "A cup of coffee to enjoy with your book?"

"You? Seen as a vampire? Preposterous!" exclaimed Sabine with a snicker, snapping the book shut and pressing it to her hip as she passed Severus on the way to the counter. "A cup of coffee will be very welcome. Woman can not live on creature lore alone, as they say."

Now, after waiting a moment for Severus to catch up to her, Sabine continued: "I suppose I see it. The extraordinary pallor, the thin physique, the baleful air. By that critique, I could perhaps also be a vampire. Although the reputation of your employer would be held much less in your favor than my own."

Sabine had heard the stories of Dumbledore's diverse professors, from the half-giant to the centaur to the werewolf. Had a vampire so much as scratched a quill upon a parchment destined for delivery to Regalus Academy, where the Dean was not so renowned or trusted, magical America would have been horrified.

Severus chuckled, making a mental note to start leaving vials of red liquid lying around and banning silver jewelry from his classroom...

Just to give them something to talk about.

He held open the door once again, ushering Sabine out. "Come. Coffee beckons."


	4. This Cunning Plan

Coffee? In Britain?

Remarkably, there was. Though there was only one place in Hogwarts where one could attain such a beverage in its proper state...

Severus opened the door to his office and, leaving it open, entered first. At first glance the gesture may have appeared rude, but it had a purpose - He pointed his wand at the hearth and a fire sprang up.

"Welcome to the lair." He said softly, an expression of mirth upon his narrow features as he indicated the book Sabine was holding. "Figuratively speaking. Please, have a seat."

The Potions Master busied himself with a different type of brew as he began preparing the coffee pot. It ran on magic, as no muggle device would, of course, operate in within Hogwarts, but the final product was unmistakably real. He measured out enough rich, black, ground coffee beans - a blend of French and Colombian that he ordered especially for its bold flavor - to brew a full pot and turned the machine on.

Studying the steam rising from the already scalding liquid, Severus frowned, brooding upon what he had heard in the library and trying to make sense of it. What of value to the Dark Lord could possibly have been left on the grounds? Perhaps...

He blinked, and turned around, smiling in a way that might have been slightly sheepish, had Severus Snape ever been known to be in any way sheepish. "I beg pardon, I was distracted." The pot made an odd gurgling sound to announce its finale, and he held out a mug. "Enjoy."

Sit she did, leaving her book on the edge of Professor Snape's desk, the toes of her boots clicking rhythmlessly on the cobbles as she awaited her reward for nights of suffering through teacup after teacup of the inane leaf-water that was so popular there. When sanctuary did come, she wrapped her hands around the mug, numb to its heat, rose it to her lips and sighed.

"Magnificent. A bit of an unusual taste, but wonderful all the same." Now sufficiently warmed to her toes, Sabine gave Severus a calculating look. "Something is bothering you."

Severus looked at Sabine abruptly, then offered an expression of surrender and seated himself in an armchair. Taking his mug of the rich, black, bitter drink, he studied her over the rim of the cup, his onyx eyes bemused. "Do you know," He said, "I don't believe anyone except Albus has ever asked me that before." This wasn't entirely true... He distinctly remembered Lucius Malfoy saying something of the sort when he was a younger man, but Severus did his best to forget that he and the lord of Malfoy Manor were once close friends and comrades.

"But to answer your ...statement..." He smirked at the woman's confidence and observation, "You're right." He shrugged, there was no sense in making a drawn-out denial when it was clear that Sabine already knew she was correct and would not be put off. "I assume you are familiar with my work for the Order?" He asked, then hesitated, a frown of internal debate crossing his face. Am I willing to get her involved in this?

The answer was simply, not really, but as he read the intrigued expression on his American counterpart's face, it became clear that he had already sent his foot on a trajectory toward his mouth.

_This is why I rarely speak to my colleagues..._ He grumbled to himself in thought. _You see what happens when I do. Blithering idiot._

Sabine had once been the youngest female teacher at Regalus Academy, before that territory was stolen from her by a little blonde angel that began teaching just out of a school in Boston. During that time, she had received plenty of teenagers seeking advice- it had both developed her empathy and somewhat shortened her patience in that time. Nevertheless, she could read trouble on a face if she paid attention to said visage. Regarding confidence: it had always proven a very useful tool.

On the other hand, Sabine would have accepted a simple assertion that she was mistaken- if only to be polite. As it was, she was surprised at how little she had to prod. Certainly, if this manner of man were to give up his point so easily, some part of him must wish to tell her. This above all things intrigued her.

"I have been given a brief overview of the duties of one Severus Snape."

Severus chuckled and nodded. "Yes, well, those duties often make me into a man you would not wish to attend a house party. I've developed an unfortunate habit of eavesdropping when something catches my attention..." He sighed, "And just now I have overheard a most fascinating discussion between several of my own precious Slytherins in the castle library." His tone on mentioning the cherubs of his House was rich with sarcasm.

"Quite carelessly, they mentioned the affairs of their elders," He went on, and his voice was bitter, "And we know what a reputation Slytherins of my generation have attained. It seems an object of some value to our enemies has been left somewhere on the grounds, if the students are to be trusted."

He raised a brow at her. "Much as I am loathe to admit it, I may require some assistance in investigating this matter further before I take it to the Headmaster. If you do not wish to be involved, I will of course understand entirely... But to be perfectly honest, I could use the help."

He needed another mind that could keep up with his own, and Sabine had proved herself to be exceptionally sharp. Her face, unknown in this region, would perhaps prove useful if the search went outside the grounds... And it would not go amiss to have a companion younger than Minerva if it came to clambering about in the bramble and vines of the forest, or other such athletic endeavors.

As Severus lamented his own disposition, Sabine stirred her coffee amorously and rose the mug to her lips for a long sip, once again breathing in the rich scent. There, as her colleague continued, it remained, irritating her lower lip as narrow hazel eyes found their way to Professor Snape's face once again.

This was new: it had been expressed to her that she would only have to board the plane and recline at a wretched little cat hole currently being used as headquarters for this secret society; that alone had required some uncomfortable paperwork and a good deal of persuasion on the behalf of her dearest friend. However, shortly afterward it had been made clear that she would do best to reside thenceforth at Hogwarts, where she would be of good use, and didn't she -want- to be useful?

Not particularly.

But this was new; that was her domain and her passion. This could mean excitement, adventure, possibly danger. Within Sabine screeched a spoiled little girl that wanted to do this. Outwards, however, Sabine's practical self argued that danger was exactly the reason for her to stay the hell away from this man's buisness. On the other hand, Severus did not seem the sort of man to desire help frivolously.

"If I could be of assistance, I implore you to tell me how and when."

_There's no going back now. Good job, Sabine._

Severus pondered for a moment, ruminating on which course of action would be best to take. To be honest, he had no idea where to start, except inside the walls of Hogwarts, for an object that, knowing the cleverness of the Dark Lord, may not be an object at all but a person. He sighed and pressed two fingertips to his temple, staving off the migraine that had been threatening him all day as he voiced his thoughts.

"I am at a loss." He shrugged, though the jerkiness of his muscles suggested that he was anything but nonchalant. His tone was tense, irritated - though a different kind of irritation from what he showed his students in class. "I suppose research is in order, though I can't say how enlightening that will be since I have no idea what the _hell_ I am looking for." He blinked, shook his head. "My apologies. I believe you have just had your first real glimpse of the Potions Master's infamous temper."

Removing the mug from her face and setting it aside, then touching her fingers to the cooling flesh, Sabine thought. Said finger shifted position, first touching her own temples briefly, then the hair above her left ear, and finally began to fiddle with the signet ring on her right hand. Ideas, ideas, ideas.

A thoughtful, almost Lovegood-esque expression crossed her face as she searched her mind, and finally she rose from her chair and crossed the room to lay a hand on Professor Snape's shoulder. "Hardly. Don't gloss yourself over for me, Professor: it's deceiving and counter-productive. And rather time-consuming, when time is something we might not have to waste smoothing over imperfections. Now, what exactly of importance did you hear?"

Severus all but flinched at the unexpected hand. Not offensive, just unexpected. He could not remember the last time the companionable gesture had been executed within Hogwarts... _Probably because they're worried I'll take their hand off at the wrist... _He mused with a slight smile.

"There is an object somewhere on the grounds of Hogwarts that the Dark Lord considers important." He repeated by way of introduction, studying his steepled fingers. "Though, bearing in mind His deviant genius, said object may not even be an object. It may be a person, or creature... Understand that I have received this information second-hand from the children of Death Eaters, and while they are not entirely unreliable, their gossip tends to be rather ambiguous." Black eyes assumed a thoughtful expression as he continued. "There will be a gathering in the fall for the Dark Lord to address his followers... According to the students, searchers will be chosen then to somehow infiltrate Hogwarts and comb the grounds, retrieving the object." He closed his eyes for a moment, then smirked in a grim, mirthless, bitter sort of way. "It is likely that I will be one of these searchers, more likely that I will be expected to grant them entrance." He laughed sardonically. Open the gate to a band of killers looking to aid their master.

Your master, a little voice in the back of his mind taunted him. He ignored it; Not anymore.

He beat his brain into submission, commanding it to think of some way to foil the Death Eaters' plan. A sudden, diabolical idea struck him, and his eyes widened in horror at its perfect ease, the knowledge that it would work like a well-oiled machine. He jerked away from Sabine, shaking his head. "_No._"

Inky eyebrows furrowed as Sabine wondered momentarily at the audible capitalization of the man's name- she knew of him, of course, but not exactly of how feared he was. She hadn't thought him too important- no one ever even bothered to say his name. Then, when he continued, she began to reflect on what was being said.

Yes, students tended to embellish things for the sake of their friends, Sabine had experienced this first-hand, but nothing heard or seen should be entirely disregarded, ever, ever. But then: a meeting of these loathful men and women? Surely of obvious importance. If...

Suddenly the shoulder she had come to rely on as a perch disappeared, and she stepped backwards in surprise. "No _what_?" she retorted in alarm, removing herself to a safe distance and leaning one skeletal hip on the desk beside her. Temper she was prepared for, but she had not expected spontaneity. Severus shook his head in the way of someone waking from a trance, surprised at his own outburst. He scowled at his loss of control, getting the impression that he'd flushed like a schoolboy at the realization he'd been thinking out loud. He could only imagine how that flush must have appeared...

Pressing fingers to his forehead in irritation and no small amount of embarrassment, he rolled his eyes, then sighed and cleared his throat. He executed a gesture to indicate that the area was free of sudden movements and outbursts, and that the crazed professor had been successfully sedated.

"Forgive me." He said lamely. "I've just had an idea, and I confess it startled me." He raised his black eyes to hers, studying her features to gauge the reaction to what he was about to say. "Professor Trefethen, how would you like to play at being a Death Eater?"

Raising her eyebrows now in interest, Sabine studied Severus' face as she watched the cogs crank. She was just wondering to herself at what he could possibly be thinking, when he dealt his proposal.

Death Eater- this was a human of almost nonexistent conscience, from what she understood, perfectly willing to, in some cases, do whatever it took to get what he or she wanted, or in other cases, be moved about like a pawn. They all had different reasons: lust for power, lust for fame, fear for life, fear for family. And it had been detailed to Sabine the lengths to which these cloaked figures were willing to go, the fears that they might have, and the theories of both Tarla and Abby on why Sabine would or would not make a good one.

Sabine had always been fascinated with darkness- in a physical sense, and a mental sense. Abby had often teased her about her fascination with books that portrayed complying characters: Dracula, Calliope Lark, Simon Attins-Wolfe, Archibald Craven, Demetrius Lord, Francesca Wakefield. Any creature dark and intricate held her rapt attention; if he or she were brilliant, all the better. To think she was being offered a chance to get close to minds such as those and perhaps examine the ranges and variations that said minds possessed.

Again, there would be danger: Sabine knew this, and yet, she had promised to help. Miss Trefethen hadn't been afraid of death or injury (for good cause, at least) since her childhood; that was not an issue, and chances were that such risks would not increase so dramatically if she was smart about the whole buisness.

People had died. This realization came slowly into Sabine's mind, as though it did not want to enter but had little choice. She had known before, she supposed- she wasn't that dense, but the very reality of the concept weighed upon the part of her mind that was saturated with fiction like a lead brick. She was one of the few lucky enough to have a family that she was on good terms with, and friends that loved and appreciated her. Certainly she would do anything to help those others like herself.

With these dizzying thoughts swirling in her head, Sabine took about five seconds to actually answer the question, ignoring the cooling cup of coffee beside her. "If you think I could pull it off. What would you have me do?"

Severus blinked, pulling back a fraction of an inch in surprise. The degree of ease with which she'd accepted, compounded by the relatively short amount of time it took her to consider, gave him the impression that this woman did not dally over difficult decisions. Another advantage.

He studied Sabine, musing... He would have to train her, and that idea did not appeal to him in the least, necessary as it was. Severus did not like dusting off the skeletons in his closet to put them on display. He'd done it once, the year of the Triwizard Tournament... Karkaroff had fled. He'd refused. When Fudge deliberately blinded himself to the truth, Severus rolled up his sleeve, bared the Mark on his arm... And the minister still would not believe it.

...The Mark. The Dark Lord would never believe a glamour spell, and Severus would not allow the woman to be branded. It was only one of several initiation rituals that he shuddered to imagine Sabine going through... New, female members were favored among the Death Eaters, he well remembered, and the shame rose like bile in his throat.

"Damn it." He swore, rising and beginning to pace. He clasped his hands behind his back and scowled at the worn stone floor, willing an answer to appear out of nowhere. "I don't know. You'll never be accepted without a Mark."

Comepletely oblivious to these more delicate situations of the man's past, Sabine vaguely recalled a hurried whisper of Tarla Prestan's detailing what was etched into the skin of Professor Snape's left arm, and what it meant. Sabine had admittedly cared much less then than she did now that that etching was somewhat of an obstacle.

"Damn it," Sabine echoed, sighing and reclining in her chair to take a hurried sip of her coffee. That done, she rose and began to pace, tapping her jaw line just below her left ear rhythmically. "Wretched," she muttered to herself; then, "There must be some other options."

Severus turned and studied her, noticing perhaps for the first time how disappointed she was at the plan being thwarted, how there was a glint of almost childish enthusiasm in her eyes. Sabine Trefethen had no idea what she was getting into. It disturbed him. He was bringing someone who was more or less a virgin to what they were dealing with right into the thick of it.

"Sabine," He said softly, "I must be sure that you understand what you are undertaking. I know that tales of the Dark Lord have become watery and vague by the time they reach your America, but here... Do you not wonder why we fear to speak his name? He decimated us, there was a path of destruction in his wake like nothing anyone had ever seen. He is the equivalent of Adolf Hitler in the wizarding world, and in getting close to him there is very real danger. If you misstep," He paused abruptly, "You will die. And I will be powerless to stop it."

Sabine went quiet for a moment, looking at Severus. What a concept. Her hands went to the sides of her neck, and she tilted her head towards the low ceiling, focusing on a spider's web in the corner while her mind raced.

He was right- she knew that much, and yet she found it frighteningly difficult to even imagine the horror that could...would be involved. Maybe she was being foolish, which was an even more frightening concept.

_Would you be willing to die for this cause?_ a little voice asked her. Sabine didn't know. Her neck began to hurt, and she brought her hands down and returned to her chair, where she sat on an armrest. Others had done it, but who was she to compare herself to great witches and wizards? Curse you for coming unprepared to this damned country, she scolded herself.

Yet... she had always been on the virtuous side of things. The destruction of an innocent life was an unreachable concept to her. Where there actually people who... well, yes.

Will you be able to live with yourself if you don't do what you can?

...No. God damn it.

"I understand," came the final, shaky reply.

Severus knew his expression became gentle and sympathetic at her tone, and he quickly schooled it into submission. "Alright. Now, how to work this?" He fell to pacing again as both individuals resumed plotting, at least one brow - The Master's - frowning in concentration.

Sabine's pale lips pursed, rather than her forehead, tightly as she tore away from the chair and resumed pacing- of course, it took her several moments to regather herself and again find her plotting zone. Once more, she began to tap the gland below her left ear, while her other arm stayed crossed in front of her.

"This is very frustrating. I'm at a complete loss." It was frustrating, and it showed in her slight developing pout.

Even in the dire circumstances, Severus could not help being amused by the pout on the coltish woman's face. He smirked, then chuckled, then choked and ceased doing both.

Hmm. It was possible... He studied Sabine, blinking slowly. _Where the hell did that come from?_ The voice in his head demanded, sounding very like his own angry hiss. Bloody ideas...

He cleared his throat, and once again addressed his partner-in-crime. "There is one possibility... It would enable you to attend a meeting without a wearing a brand."

He sighed, very aware that he was going to flush as he said the words, and was unable to do anything about it. "The family members of Death Eaters are welcome at meetings... The Dark Lord uses them as extensions of his servants, to support his crusade to a lesser degree. Were you to accompany me to this fall's meeting - a few weeks from now - I could present you as my wife."

The deed done, he crossed his arms, leaned back against the mantle with its corner between his shoulder blades, and waited.

At first, the woman let out an unladylike, involuntary and -yes- coltish snort, and a much more attractive, if short, laugh afterwards. She looked at Severus in utter disbelief, as though she wanted to scold him for making her laugh at a time like this but couldn't give him the appropriate glower for the hints of a smile still left on her lips.

"Good God. You're serious!" she pointed out emphatically, letting her left arm drop to fold with her right one as Sabine withdrew one shoulder, studying Professor Snape. "It's a ridiculous idea. It would never work. We're too-" Different? Sabine tried again. "I mean to say that we..." Don't get along?

"...There must be another option."

Severus shrugged. "Nothing that presents itself. Perhaps given time, though time is not exactly a luxury we can afford to waste. I would offer the possibility of sister, cousin... But I have been in the Dark Lord's inner circle for years, and he knows that I have no sister, and no female relative living or even close to your age. He would see right through a glamour spell-" Again the pronoun was definitively capitalized, "And were you to present yourself as merely an outsider interested in joining the circle, you would either be branded on the spot, run out on a rail or, more likely, killed."

He shook off the cold that accompanied that last possibility, then raised a brow. "Well? You've got a better idea? After all, I'm not asking you to marry me, just act as if you had." He smirked at her. "Unless, of course, you'd rather I did."

"I know nothing of your life," Sabine protested, dropping her arms and giving Severus an indignant look, as though this were the most preposterous proposal she had ever heard. Whirling around, she topped off the centimeter of stone-cold coffee in the bottom of her cup and took a long sip with the kettle still in hand, then set both containers down.

"Anyway, I don't have a ring to speak of. My mother is Bound to hers."

Severus, having lost his flustered expression mere moments after the topic was breached, was growing increasingly amused at Sabine's protests. She was a strong-willed woman, and he could well understand the deep-rooted aversion to such an idea, but it wasn't as if he had dropped to one knee, a lovelorn fool, and begged her to be his lifelong partner and sex slave...

...In any case, he made an attempt to control his smirking countenance and shrugged again, waving a dismissive hand. "You have just over three weeks to undertake what your Americans call, I believe, a 'crash course.' I assure you, there is not much to learn." He paused, and gave her a pained expression. "Ms. Trefethen, you insult me. Surely you could not imagine that I would abandon the lady of my choosing to supply her own ring?"

His tone was pure honey, but when the inevitably shocked glare was turned on him, his black eyes glittered with mischief, and a thin smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His lanky frame, which had straightened as he replied to her protestations, relaxed again as he resumed his position at the mantle.

No: not so much shocked as incredulous. The very idea of a man -any man- going out of his way to choose a ring for her for any reason left her dumbstruck. Momentarily, anyway. For a second she had entertained notions of Tarla Prestan, the diva of politics, dragging her through every jewelry shop on the continent, shoving glittering pieces of metal and stone into her face and onto her pale, veined fingers, chattering about the very idea of marriage and Sabine intertwining their concepts.

"If you insist," she finally said- her halfhearted attempt to look politely defeated failed miserably, although there was a distinct air of reluctance. "But you of course understand that I won't tolerate anything flashy. One simple band, that won't distract anyone, and won't catch much light. I also want it understood that I expect a full account of the price, and, when I eventually return to America, I will have the appropriate amount transferred to your Gringotts account."

That said, a moment taken to reflect on Severus' use on the phrase 'crash course' made her grin for a moment, and she bit her lip until such time as she could pull a straight face.

"I kept my career, and kept my maiden name in the public face, to avoid confusion and rumour," she said suddenly, turning to retrieve her new cup of coffee and keeping it close to her as she stepped closer to the mantle. "I am, as I have told you, a New Berlin native, born of Lionel and Regina Trefethen, who held positions with Scattergood Spellbooks. Both are alive and well. I believe you know enough of my employment at Sir Regalus Academy of Magic to get by, and... I believe that is more information than will be required of me. We also honeymooned in France. It was very short-lived, perhaps a weekend. Enough to comply with formality," she added as an afterthought, sipping from her coffee and lifting her head towards Severus. "Your turn."

Severus balked - He had not planned upon delivering such an immediate tour into his life. But it was only fair, after Sabine's willing contribution.

"Very well..." He sighed, his already pale face looking paler and drawn, his eyes oddly sunken. "I was raised in England on a family estate known as Dartmoor Manor, by Tobias and Eileen Snape. I was tutored at home by my mother till the age of eleven, then entered Hogwarts and completed my education. I was made a prefect in my fifth year. My father, incidentally, was an evil bastard..." He muttered under his breath. "Immediately following graduation I was persuaded by my friend Lucius to enter that elite force known as the Death Eaters." He could not keep his hands from tensing on the arms of his chair, and he would not meet Sabine's eyes. "Just over a year later, I entered Dumbledore's confidence and became a spy for the Dark Lord." He paused, trusting that she would understand the significance of that statement but feeling a need to justify it either way. "Or at least, that is what they will want to hear. You, of course, know that it is in fact the other way round."

Attempting to lighten the mood, he raised his head, clasped his hands loosely and raised a brow at her, smirking. "France, was it? Did you enjoy yourself?"

Sabine listened intently, perching herself in an eerily vulturesque way on the side of her designated chair. Of course, she decided against commenting, but rather putting these facts away in her mind to remember. "I suppose I had best get used to referring to him as the Dark Lord," she reflected afterwards, giving a small sigh.

In fact, she looked quite relieved when the topic shifted to a lighter mood. "Oh, yes, the French countryside. You were very charming, and we both got a good deal of reading done," she replied with a smirk, clicking the side of her mug with a long, crooked fingernail. "A very good deal."

Severus worked to hide his smile and hold in the burst of laughter that threatened to overwhelm him. It was, of course, not the response he would have expected from any other female, but from Sabine it was entirely appropriate.

"Very good then." He replied when he could trust his voice to not turn into laughter. "Perhaps we should adjourn for the evening? I notice that a house elf has been here to tidy my quarters shortly before our arrival, which means no doubt that one has visited yours as well. I've kept you up rather late, people will talk."

"Very well," Sabine replied reluctantly, once again returning to the desk to refill her mug, this time only half-full in the first place. However, instead of returning to her chair she started towards the door, cup still firmly in hand.

"Good night, Professor. I will see you in the morning."

And with that cheery farewell, the door clicked shut and retreating footsteps faded -rather quickly, in case Severus would not take kindly to the nicking of one of his coffee cups- towards the stairwell.

Severus blinked slowly as his door closed on Sabine's retreating back and his coffee cup. Then he burst into laughter, shaking his head at the woman's bravado. He'd never met someone who was quite so bold in his presence - with the exception of Dumbledore, who had a habit of showing up in the Master's chambers without invitation, sometimes waiting for Severus to arrive, when there were matters he wished to discuss. It would have been irritating to the point of fury with most people, but for some reason he found Sabine's behavior merely amusing.


	5. Good Morning

As the night passed, Sabine nursed her cup to emptiness, refusing to let it drain completely until well up to her bedtime despite its going cold. Finally she resigned, rinsed the mug out and washed it in her bathroom (she was doing her cauldron, anyway, as part of the unpacking process; to have run it down to the kitchens would have been a waste and handwashing works so much better than magic for these things, or so she said to herself).

It was rather coquettish of her, she thought, but she simply couldn't resist the temptation to sneak into the dungeons early in the morning and leave the mug on the wallside table next to Professor Snape's office before breakfast. It doubled as a paperweight, holding down a neatly clipped scrap of parchment with crisp, tightly looping script:

_Loving thanks for the coffee, Professor Snape. I look forward to our future relationship- which, by the way, I hold high hopes for._

_--S.T._

Severus opened his eyes slowly, loath to leave his large, comfortable bed. He had to teach today... Perhaps if he remained prone and silent, with his eyes closed, the little brats would think he had died. His lips curled into a morbid smile. He could hear the celebration now.

Stretching halfheartedly and rolling his shoulders about to awaken the circulation, he sat up, blinking blearily, and stomped over to the washbasin, making himself at least presentable before he set the coffee on to brew.

Looking out into his study through the open chamber door, he frowned over the towel that was drying his face and lowered the cloth, noticing an object on his small corner table that had not been there before.

Strange... His suspicions were immediately aroused.

Barefoot, the Master padded out into his office and prodded the clean coffee mug with a quill - he'd had far too much experience with bewitched objects recently to be careless. It appeared to be harmless, and he picked it up, reading the parchment beneath.

Smirking and shaking his head, he offered a satisfied growl to no one in particular and replaced the mug in its proper location before beginning his day.


	6. To Shop, To Live

((This chapter was written entirely by Lindsay. Behold it.))

Severus pushed open the door to a cheerily lit, tidy little shop in Diagon Alley. He ducked slightly as the bell above his head tinkled merrily, declaring its joy in receiving another customer. The Master scowled.

He tried to keep his expression bland, but it was admittedly difficult as the voice in his head kept informing him, _This is ridiculous_. Funny how much that voice sounded like Sabine...

Severus Snape, infamous Potions Master, resident overgrown bat of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was in a jeweler's shop.

And if that singular fact was not grounds for shock and awe, his intended purchase certainly was.

He wandered over to a display of simple rings, bands in various designs and metals. Incidentally, jewelry shopping in the wizarding world is a great deal easier than in the Muggle world. Pieces that rely on a perfect fit will emphasize themselves, by a simple spell, to fit the owner's needs. Which was helpful, because he knew nothing about Sabine's fingers except that they were slim, long, precise and well-kempt. Like his own.

A short, plump little shopkeeper bustled over with the air of a mother hen, but her cheerful "Can I help you?" died on her lips as Severus fixed her with a poisonous glare. His raised brow and eyes narrowed in threat sent her scuttling off again.

Sighing softly, he returned his attention, once again, to the rings. One of the matching pairs was forged from reddish rose gold, the woman's bearing a ruby cut into the shape of a heart. Through his own distaste for the design, his thin mouth twitched into a smile as he envisioned Sabine's reaction to such a ring.

As it was, the rings were purely objects of necessity. It would be easier to present himself and Sabine as a pair if the two had tangible proof of such a claim. Yet he was prepare to expend a large sum of his considerable funds to acquire such items as he and his companion would not be ashamed to wear.

He selected two simple but elegant, antiqued silver bands. After a moment's deliberation he added another ring of the same material that was set with bright lapis lazuli, a blue stone like those he had seen Sabine wear.

Applying an expression that dared the shopkeeper to comment, Severus paid for his purchases, then tucked them carefully out of sight inside his cloak. He examined the street outside before leaving, ensuring he would not be spotted, then Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts.

In the Potions Master's wake, the shopkeeper blustered about for a moment, debating whether or not to owl her friends and crow about what she had seen. In the end she decided against it, discarding the idea as ludicrous.

Though her gruff customer had looked awfully like him, Severus Snape wouldn't be caught dead buying a set of wedding rings!

_Later that day…_

Severus prowled the quarters of Diagon Alley's expansive shopping district that were less packed with humanity. He finally located the place he sought and ducked his tall frame into its shadowed recesses.

The rich, earthy aroma lifted his mood the moment he inhaled, a blend of similar yet distinctly different scents, cultivated and imported from around the globe. He breathed in deep, the variety of odors tantalizing his sensitive nose.

Coffee. The little haven, wedged in between a used bookstore and a novelties shop, did not seem to receive much business, but a stop here was prerequisite every time Severus paid a visit to Diagon Alley. He was certain that regular, generous expenditures from his inherited purse helped to keep the shop's doors open.

It may be suggested that coffee has little place in a district of magician's shops, but the Potions Master had perhaps been exaggerating somewhat when he declared himself the only Englishman in Britain that enjoyed coffee. And while the dark substance has little value as a magical ingredient, Severus had used the ground powder as a balance for some of his most volatile brews.

Inclining his head and offering a slight smile in polite greeting to the shopkeeper (whom he suspected was growing rather fond of him, by her sudden flush and pleased giggle), Severus looked around at the familiar crates, barrels and sacks containing his aromatic drug of choice. A new, brightly painted crate attracted his attention and he approached it, bending over and allowing the slick, roasted brown beans to slide out of the measuring scoop that was provided. The rattling cascade sent up a pleasing aroma that could almost be described as musky in its rich complexity.

"This is new." Severus commented unnecessarily. "What is it?"

"Arabic, straight from the southern groves of Palestine." The shopkeeper returned, looking pleased. "It's brewed strong and seasoned with cardamom."

Attracted by the alluring odor and the newness of the beans, Severus purchased a full bag and a jar of the required spice, laying a generous handful of silver Sickles on the counter without really looking at the cost. The shopkeeper was accustomed to this practice and did not comment as she gathered the coins into her strongbox. After a moment's consideration, Severus set down a Galleon and asked if he could have a bag of his usual French and Colombian blend, please. His stores had run out, being shared with another enthusiastic coffee drinker, but he did not mind in the slightest. In fact, he seemed to be minding very little these days, though his students still gave him migraines… He suspected the intelligent conversation and the ability to speak openly about his work for the Order were easing away some of his usual tension.

Thanking the shopkeeper, he gathered his purchases and returned to Hogwarts.


	7. Growing Used to Things

"Here," Severus offered a steaming mug of the thick, spiced Arabic coffee to Sabine. He poured a mug for himself, adding the cardamom and splashing in a hint of brandy, the fumes from the liquor rising in curling wisps of steam over the mug. He took a seat in one of the leather armchairs before the hearth in his study, sighing. "We have much to discuss."

Sabine inhaled the rich scent of her coffee, touching the warm mug to her lip in that inane manner he'd seen before. She offered him an attentive look that asked, Such as?

"Well, I must explain to you what you will be expected to know at the meeting, and how we should appear…" He paused, retrieving a small package from his robes. "That reminds me."

He extracted the rings, slipped one of the bands onto the appropriate finger on his own left hand, and held the others out in his right, his long fingers uncurling to reveal the matching pair, stone and band, nestled in his palm. The map of lines etched across his pale skin were interrupted by a faint, round burn scar just off center. A callous at the base of his thumb belied frequent use of quill and tool; and a thin, pearly, vertical scar traveled from the base of his hand up his wrist, over the translucent tracery of veins till it disappeared beneath the sleeve of his robes. They were intelligent, precise hands, almost feminine in their elegant delicacy, though the developed musculature warned of an iron grip.

He twisted his wrist slightly, making the rings clink together to attract Sabine's attention, who seemed to have become lost in her coffee. "My darling wife," He purred in a tone mocking but not unkind, "Will you accept these small gifts as a token of my appreciation?"

Sabine's expertly raised eyebrow betrayed a not-so-secret desire, at first, to know exactly what it was that Severus wanted to discuss. This was momentarily forgotten when she treated herself to a taste of this new coffee. "Mmm. Quite rich, perhaps a bit too much so for my taste."

On that muttered note, Sabine's attention was caught once more by Severus' gesture, and she leaned her elbows on his desk eagerly to critique -not admire, she told herself- the trinkets he had chosen for her. Despite herself, she felt a certain inexplicable pride well up in her chest and throat as she gazed at the silver circles.

"I asked for only one." This was the attempted protest, but the words came out so gently that they could almost be disregarded entirely.

Severus smiled at her apparent approval, feeling an unexpected swell of pride. He'd been keen to choose a set that neither Sabine nor himself would be ashamed to wear, but the best he could have hoped for was calm acceptance. The quiet timbre of her voice as she expected the objects - with a halfhearted protest, of course - made the well-hidden part of him that craved approval stir, and he could hear its contented purr in the back of his mind. He clamped down mentally on the feeling of self-importance and clasped his hands again, sitting back in his chair as the momentary expression of pride flickered across his features and was gone.

"I assumed that the pair would be more appropriate." He replied. "I take it you approve?" It was not really a question. "Good. I confess, I am pleased." He spread his hands and offered an almost shy half-smile. "I only ask that you accept them as gifts, since I will not tell you the cost, and any attempt to return them or a monetary equivalent will be met with hostility." He raised a brow, underscoring his point.

Tapping his own with a fingertip, he explained, "I bought these in Diagon Alley, away from the prying eyes of students..." A queer expression passed over his angular features, and he finished the sentence by commenting, "Damn."

Sabine nodded, too preoccupied with the bobbles (and good God, how she would despise herself for that streak of materialism later) to bother with the immediate past just now. Carefully removing the bands from Severus' well-worked hands with her own careworn ones, she carefully slid first the simple band onto her left finger, followed by the one inset with stone.

_"You see, the wedding ring goes closest to your heart," _her mother had patiently explained to her once upon a time.

_"Damn."_

"What?" Sabine looked up in alarm at this intrusion on her quasi-fantasy.

Waving his hand in an irritated gesture at his own lack of forethought, Severus repeated the phrase again. "The prying eyes of students." He said, as if it was supposed to mean something on its own. Seeing that it apparently did not, he continued. "These Slytherin students see us every day - your friend Mr. Nott, for example. If their parents ask of our appearance and the students reply that we appear as nothing more than colleagues, the Dark Lord and his servants will guess that something is remiss."

"Oh, my." Sabine sighed, pressing her newly adorned hand to her cheek in thought, momentarily losing herself in the feeling of the smooth, warm metal.

"We will have to, naturally, come up with a bit of what they call back-story. How to make this tale believable?" Now, here was Sabine's area of expertise. Who could weave a story better than she, after all, who indulged in literature so frequently that her life was not much more than a series of chapters itself?

Severus contemplated for a moment or two, looking decidedly ruffled, then replied, his usually smooth voice slightly awkward. "I suppose we could... something at dinner, or between classes..." He rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. "Students are expert gossips. I suggest only that we give them something to gossip about."

But, it was too late for that now. Sabine had picked up her coffee, and drained faithfully almost the entire cup in the few minutes she had thought. "It has been," she said slowly, placing the mug at such an angle that suggested she wanted to be offered more, "a very private engagement. We have corresponded over the past few years, and you, struck by my..." -disdainful pause and unwomanly sneer- "reasonable charm and beauty asked me to take the coveted position of your ardent advocate. A bit of a beginning for you, really. I'm sure such ambitious men would be terribly impressed."

Severus smirked, pleased at her rescue from grave awkwardness and almost certain discomfort. He rose to refill his own coffee cup, setting the mug on the mantle and executing an elaborate bow. "Your charm, madam, is surpassed only by your exceeding cleverness. I surrender to your obvious intellect."

He reached for Sabine's mug and refilled it first, handing it back to her with a flourish of his free hand. "Your reward for such quick thinking." He stated, his black eyes still laughing.

Sabine chuckled- it was more of a giggle, but damned if she would say so- and accepted the mug. "Thank you, Severus. You're very kind to me, as always.

"I do flatter myself, though. What better purpose for you to take a wife than to have her as the first of Severus Snape's own dominion? Others would slowly but surely follow, and with popularity comes sway, and with sway, power. And you're to keep yourself indistinct. Who could blame you for keeping such a move secret?"

Severus shrugged, offering a look that said, _Who knows?_ and sipping his drink. He made a mental note to leave off the brandy henceforth, because the heat of the rich coffee combined with the illusion of heat that brandy was infamous for was making him very warm indeed.

He cleared his throat and gestured at the mug cradled in Sabine's hands. "You've grown used to it, then, or are you just humoring me?" He paused a moment, realizing the ambiguous and rather thought-provoking nature of the statement, and clarified. "The coffee, that is."

"You might say I've taken to it. After the first initial taste, it seems almost comforting. I wouldn't have it on a regular basis, though." Sabine took a moment to savor the scent of the drink before sampling it again. "As for you being kind to me, I may grow used to it if you aren't careful. I'm one to bristle back when unpleasantly surprised."

Sabine set her mug down and waves her hand, as if shooing the topic away. "We're falling off-course. About our appearance before your fellow minions."

Severus barely caught his wince at the term "fellow minions," but shook it off and continued. "Yes... I believe that the information we've exchanged regarding family history will be sufficient, and as personal habits are not a topic typically up for discussion at the Dark Lord's gatherings..."

He paused and blinked away the bizarre image of Lucius Malfoy explaining to his fellow Death Eaters how best to please their trophy wives, followed immediately by a more vivid vision of Sabine appearing behind the elder Malfoy and injuring him grievously. "I digress." He commented, though verbally he really had not.

"Women are mainly silent during meetings, except for the insufferable Bellatrix Lestrange, who seems incapable of keeping her mouth shut at any cost." He sneered. "This will actually be an asset, though I apologize in advance for the obviously misogynistic experience you shall endure. Silence will give you more opportunity to observe than is usually granted me, and this is an exceptionally important meeting, in which eyes and ears must be free of distraction."

He trailed off, as there was really nothing more to say, and examined the woman opposite him critically. "You wouldn't by chance happen to own any hooded black robes?"

"Sure," Sabine replied, giving an amused smirk at Snape's 'digression'. The smile slid off of her face as she listened, though, nodding her consent to the expectation that she was to remain primarily without words. Silence she could do.

The question, however, was mildly unexpected, and Sabine blinked before responding. "I own two sets. Standard dress code, I presume?"

Severus nodded absently. "Yes... The Dark Lord apparently wishes us all to retain the element of enigmatic foreboding that is his trademark, hence, the hoods."

"You will, then, have to visit me one night very soon to inspect the articles. I would like to make sure that they're in an appropriately uniform style, of course- American cuts seem so different from what I've seen here," Sabine stated, thinking about her high hemline and the tight bells of her sleeves.

Severus considered this, and smiled wryly. "Ah, yes, I had not considered that. There is a chance that we will have to purchase new ones; I would not wish my reputation as a dutiful husband to be tarnished for failure to keep my bride's wardrobe up to date." He gestured vaguely and added, "That is to say, in this part of the world. Your American styles are rather different," He agreed, and ignored the comment his mental voice made about high hemlines. "You know, despite the accent, I often forget that you are not a native. You seem to fit in very well with your surroundings."

He hesitated, as the silver pocket watch again made its appearance, and he frowned slightly, studying its aged ivory face. "I do not wish to impose, but I fear that it may prove necessary to secure these robes as soon as possible... Might I see your selections tonight?"

Nodding her agreement, Sabine frowned as her mind shifted briefly to the collection of bodices that Tarla kept in her trunk to wear over her robes. It wasn't as though she needed such tools, in the first place- and this was thought with a brief streak of jealousy which Sabine loathed. "Thank you- that is, I believe I will take that as a compliment. Reluctant as I was to come in the first place, I find Britain more and more appealing."

That said, Sabine took it upon herself to lean forward and glance at the time, at the same moment admiring the make of the watch. It was an elegant piece, to be sure, and she would have to milk its story from Severus eventually. "Certainly. In fact, you may see them now if you wish."

Severus waited until Sabine was finished with her examination of his pocket watch, then returned it to its proper place and rose. "That would be excellent, thank you." He debated with himself for a very brief moment on whether to take the road of the social dandy or the road of the impolite brute, and decided to settle somewhere in between. He stretched out his hand, offering assistance to Sabine as she rose from the enveloping armchair, but nothing more.


	8. The Girls

((This chapter was written by Lindsay and by the fabulous Squealing Fangirl.))

At Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place…

Noting the attention that was turned on him, Severus leaned back in his chair over a glass of Rosmerta's excellent red wine and narrowed his eyes in contemplation over what he was about to reveal, clasping his hands loosely on the worn table before him. The members of the Order stirred restively, and he launched into a softly-spoken recitation of his business.

"There is, as I am certain you are all aware, a meeting of the Dark Lord's followers in a matter of weeks. I plan to attend this meeting... And I also intend to allow Ms. Sabine Trefethen to accompany me."

At the first murmurs of protestation, he held up a hand. "Please hear me. Ms. Trefethen is well aware of the danger, and we have made preparations to ensure not only her safety but the safety of everyone involved. I will require her assistance, and she was willing to offer it."

For the moment, he kept the tale of the hidden object in the back of his mind, resolved to not mention it until he was more certain of its nature.

"An idiotic idea," remarked a witch from the back of the room. Average height, of the finest form and face ever to grace New York's offices, Tarla Prestan let her shiny light blonde ringlets hang down, and currently swaddled herself in conservatively-cut red silk robes, made slightly suggestive by the black satin corset worn over them, as was the American fashion at the moment.

Said witch flicked the filter of her long, thin cigarette with a French-manicured thumb, causing a few ashes to fall unceremoniously to the floor and earning a scowl from the already somewhat disturbed Mrs. Weasley.

"Trefethen would never do such a thing. Well..." A pointed look from the only other Yank in the room, a thin, freckled woman on a stool by the sink, stopped her. "At any rate, how would it ever work? Don't you need to have the..." Tarla gestured vaguely with her cigarette to her left forearm.

Severus sneered at the woman, whose attempts at sensuality in her dress and manner only served to annoy him, though he could not speak for any other males who might have noticed.

"I assure you, Trefethen would indeed do such a thing, as I did not volunteer her cooperation on my own." He answered silkily, his black eyes lazily following the ash as it sprinkled the floor and the smoke as it curled toward the ceiling. He returned his gaze to hers, uncurling his left hand palm up on the table, indicating his own "..." without actually displaying the Mark. "And yes, traditionally a brand - I believe that is the word you were searching for?" His tone was derisive. "A brand is required, but for the families of Death Eaters, unnecessary. Ms. Trefethen will be masquerading as a member of my family."

Sniffing disdainfully, Tarla drew a long drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke towards the barely-cracked window, giving the witch on the stool plenty of time to interject. Abigail Brooke was pretty-in-a-sweet-way, and currently her short hair was left as carelessly tended as the worn denim jeans and aging white blouse that she wore.

"I guess the two of you don't look very different," she said, tapping the counter incessantly (but silently) with a red fingernail and showing a hint of a Southern drawl. "She could pass for a cousin. But they would know, wouldn't they? Whatshisname would keep tabs on the family members of his inner circle."

Severus sighed at the indomitable questions of the two witches, but with that exception, let none of his irritation show in outward signs.

"_'Whatshisname'_ does indeed have an extensive knowledge of his servants' family life, and I suppose that would be a problem if Sabine had planned on presenting herself as a blood relative. However, that is not the case. She will be presented as my wife."

Tarla let out something between a snicker and a snort, resulting in her choking on her own smoke; a few of the other residents of the room had similarly shocked reactions. Abigail laughed and rested her head on top of one hand. "I love it. Can't believe she agreed to it. Congratulations."

Meanwhile, Prestan waved her hand randomly until she could regain speech. "I can't say it doesn't seem well-suited to the both of you. No doubt she's inventing an entire history of the Snape-Trefethen courtship as we speak. And you're both certain that it'll work? You understand that I'd like to be familiar with the risks involved."

"You are correct in assuming that Sabine has spent a prudent amount of her considerable brainpower concocting a history, in order to make the entire affair seem more realistic," Severus considered his poor choice of words - _affair?_ -; but decided that it was too late to alter the sentence. He paused, not meeting the eyes of his questioner, and studied his fingertips, tapping the table lightly. "There is no certainty in these dealings, as I am sure you are already aware. However, both Ms. Trefethen and myself have taken precautions to ensure that neither of us becomes either a liability or a corpse." He could not think of another way to word the blunt response, and did not truthfully want to.

"I believe that it would be futile to attempt altering Sabine's decision, she seems rather set in this matter."

Having better things to do, the table adjourned, twittering coming from some and mumblings from others; still more were silent as the gentle hum of the household resumed over a number of minutes. Meanwhile, Tarla folded the remains of her cigarette into an engraved ashtray placed conveniently by the sink, and moved to seat herself so as to be as opposite Snape as possible. "I have no doubt that Sabine can take care of herself, and neither one of us," here she gestured to Abigail and back to herself, as the freckled woman made her own way to the table, "have any need to protect her, or any desire to change her mind, I'm sure. She's a big girl; she knows what she's doing.

Tarla inhaled raggedly, and placed her hands flat on the table before her. "You, however, know the dangers of these circumstances better than any of us, and I would like to expect that no preventable harm will come of Sabine."

Abigail chose this moment to cut in, having seated herself rather close to Severus and leaned her elbow on the table to examine his profile. Despite the mirth that this might otherwise inspire, Abby looked very solemn. "Sabine isn't as cautious as she seems," she admitted. "She's occasionally too brash for her own good, but she's also as good as our sister. You will take care of her, won't you?" Unlike Tarla, Abby seemed to realize that she was asking rather a lot, and visibly braced herself.

Severus closed his eyes for the briefest of moments and sighed, resisting the urge to press the tips of his fingers to his temple as he always did to stave off a migraine. His jaw clenched for the barest of moments in anger at the irrepressible questions – being, well, himself, he was quite unused to questions of that variety coming out of any mouth other than perhaps Hermione Granger's. But it was easy to see that the two American witches cared for Sabine deeply, and to deny them the reassurance they craved was brutal cruelty that they, even in his eyes, did not deserve.

"I would not lead another member of this Order - or, indeed, any person - blindly into danger." He replied softly at long last. "I will do all in my power to protect Sabine... The three of you are obviously old friends, but I have grown rather fond of her in the more recent past, and I would hate to lose such a unique presence." He gave the slightest of smirks to assure them that his rather coarse comments were in jest. "Rest assured, I would not see her harmed."

Abigail, for one, seemed satisfied. "Thank you, Professor. You're a good man." With that, she rose, wrapping one speckled hand around Tarla's wrist (the blonde witch looked like she was trying to form a response that didn't involve sarcasm) and dragged her unceremoniously out of the room. "Good night, Professor Snape. Give Sabine our regards, and tell her to come with you next time!"

Finally, from down the hall, a once-sultry-and-now-prematurely-aging voice grumbled: "If anything happens to her, I'll have your skull as a jewellery box!"


	9. A Live Model

The journey to the Trefethen quarters would be equally swift and quite silent indeed (up the stairs, into an east corridor, up a tiny winding staircase, the likes of which are usually reserved for farmhouse kitchens), Sabine curtly stating to the rather parental-guidance rated statue guarding the arched doorway (a forest nymph with snakes for hair- a rather unusual combination, needless to say) that the password was 'Hinkypunks'. This proved correct, and Sabine gestured to her companion to enter after her.

The quarters were small (and showed definite signs of being decorated by Sabine, containing a healthy bit of Victorian clutter and a large amount of pictures of what could be assumed her family and friends), consisting of a tasteful little sitting-room with a rug, a fireplace and two dark purple chairs, and a niche with a full-length window. Off to one side was a curtained half-wall providing entrance to an insignificant and largely untouched kitchenette, and to the other side was a door to a fiercely neat room with a tidy bed, a surprisingly large vanity and stool, a wardrobe, and a door which in turn led to a bathroom. "The modest accommodations. Make yourself at home."

Severus looked around, taking in everything with an interested gaze and puzzling over the odd blend of clutter and elegant decor. He realized that it was the first time he had actually been in a woman's bedroom for a purpose other than... He cleared his throat and carefully examined the upholstery of one of the chairs, which happened to be the first thing his eyes fell on. The deep purple color was rather intriguing...

_What the hell?_ He blinked and returned his attention to the task at hand. "Thank you." He said very belatedly. "I will expect a full display, complete with a live model." He snarked gently, reminding Sabine, in case there was any doubt, that his wits were still entirely about him.

Entirely missing the very _inappropriate_ and entirely potentially _unwelcome_ thoughts of the Potions professor, Sabine gave a small sniff as she trotted towards the bedroom. "I shall take great pains not to die or turn to wax, then," she remarked playfully as she closed the door and turned around, regarding the bedroom. Quite standard, really.

Passing her vanity, which happened to be the most feminine object in the entire apartment, Sabine withdrew from her wardrobe two sets of black robes. Immediately she was overcome with the suspicion that neither would do, and even went so far as to hang one up entirely, before changing with some hesitation into the other set.

Even as she frowned at the wide sleeves and the eccentric cut of the hips (designed with the installment of a bit of a hoop, quite unflattering to any but the thinnest of forms, which Sabine happened to be "blessed" with), some strange affliction of vanity caused her to smooth her hair before exiting, and dab onto the nape of her neck one of the more subtle of the twelve perfume bottles neatly lined up on the dressing table.

That done, Sabine cleared her throat, raised her chin and opened the door once again, lacing her hands demurely in front of her, dropping her shoulders and beginning a lap about the room.

Severus made no reply to Sabine's lightly mocking comments, choosing instead to brood on nothing in particular. He stood facing the fireplace with his hands clasped behind his back, and turned around abruptly as the door opened. He followed his colleague's progress around the room, appreciating the calm elegance she exuded, and swore he caught a faint hint of a pleasing scent as she passed close to him.

He told himself that his dark eyes were examining too closely the woman before him; to which his self responded curtly that it was for research. He blinked and drew a breath to pass the verdict.

"They suit you very well," He said softly, speaking slowly and deliberately so as to keep the prerequisite purr out of his voice. Somehow he doubted that in this setting it would be appropriate. "It is unfortunate, but I fear that the cut is not quite right... We will need to purchase a new set. My thanks for the demonstration, however," and here he bowed very slightly, a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth. "Especially at this late hour, I could not have asked for a more cooperative model."

"You flatter me more than you might have intended. I truly don't appreciate it." However, the tugging at her lips and the faint pinkness of her cheeks might suggest otherwise. Sabine tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and removed herself to her bedroom again, not wishing to wrinkle a perfectly good set of dress robes.

Surprisingly, her voice carried through the wood of the door with a clarity that might not have been expected. "I will, then, expect you to assist me in choosing a more appropriate set."

The next question was a much more timid one, Sabine hesitating to ask even as she fastened her belt and adjusted her collar. "Were you ever married, Severus?"

Severus listened to her declare herself not pleased with his compliments, but the light blush she could not quite hide spoke otherwise, and he vaguely congratulated himself, amused.

He had, of course, expected to accompany Sabine at least to the seamstress' shop to purchase the new garments; but somehow, at hearing her suggest it, the idea seemed alien. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that was reminding him of the considerable control he would have over the fashioning of said robes.

He had almost become lost in his brooding again when a voice, so timid that for a moment he did not realize it was Sabine's, carried through the bedroom door.

_"Were you ever married, Severus?"_

Severus swallowed. _Oh, God... Where did that come from?_ From anyone else the question would have brought anger, from Sabine, it brought a twinge of bitterness.

A stroke of guilt ran itself over Sabine, and she cleared her throat in a very Snapelike manner before exiting the bedroom again, closing the door behind her, but staying at that post. After having examined Severus' expression, Sabine immediately found herself wanting to mollify him.

"I ask only for future reference," she offered gently. Sabine was, after all, tactful enough to know that this was a touchy subject. "You need not tell me if it would embarrass you or rekindle unwanted memories." Already her curious mind was caressing the ideas of comically rejected proposals and more solemn instances of separation.

He made a gesture as if to wave away her apologies, assuring her that they were unnecessary - she hadn't done anything wrong. But he remained mute, and the gesture was more an absent twitching of the fingers as his dark eyes - suddenly seeming more deep-set, somehow - strayed into unfocused distance.

As he looked down at Sabine, his tall frame still as a statue, Severus could not help but think of his father; opening locked closets he did not want to open, seeing vivid memories he did not wish to relive. A look of utmost loathing crossed his face as the voice in his mind snarled hatefully, _Still breaking me after all these years, aren't you, Father?_ He closed his eyes for a long moment to will the images away and to erase the expression from his features. He had grown up on the inside of the only marriage he had ever seen go so terribly wrong.

"Married?" He said finally, his voice soft. "No, never… Almost, once." He offered a small smile to assure everyone involved that his mental journey to the department of back-story was over. "I never found anyone that didn't irritate me to the point of insanity." He added truthfully in the same soft tone, though his smile became a smirk as he studied her under a slightly raised brow.

"Oh." _Drop the goddamn subject,_ her inner voice told her viciously, and she did, letting it fly out the window with a sharp intake of breath as she stored everything- the hateful distortion of his face, the underlying tone in his voice, the icy fingers that stroked her spine as the realization that she had touched a raw nerve dawned on her.

Sabine came forward and, despite herself, took one of Severus' hands to press it between hers, if only briefly. Had it not been that particular gesture, in those particular circumstances, anyone might think that she was only employing a creative alternative to a tap on the shoulder. "I have heard that Diagon Alley has several quality robe shops."

Severus blinked, the feel of his hand suddenly taken up in hers pulling him back to reality. Her touch lingered for only a moment, but it was long enough for the nerves in his hand to register how very pleasant her skin felt against his. The cold, callous bat of the dungeons, enjoying human contact... How bizarre.

Ah, she had employed his time-honored tactic of abruptly changing the subject. He was grateful, and nodded. "Yes... For these purposes, I would venture a suggestion that we visit Madame Malkin's... Custom-cut women's robes seem to be her specialty, though she would tell you that any robe is her specialty. The woman relishes in her talents." He was silent for a moment, then checked his pocket watch. "Perhaps we should adjourn for the night? Tomorrow is a weekend, it would be an ideal time to visit the shop, and on the return trip to interview a few of Hogsmeade's residents... Perhaps they have heard rumors." He realized his suggestions sounded rather like orders, and reminded himself that he was not teaching, and that Sabine was not a student. "That is, if tomorrow is convenient for you."

"I'll check my date book, but I'm certain tomorrow will be fine."

_It isn't as though I have a life._

With that, Sabine stepped back to clear a path to the door and nodded. "Good night. Pleasant dreams."


	10. Inappropriate Dreams

Severus jerked awake, rubbing a hand over his face in agitation, and growled angrily in the dark.

His imagination was so hopelessly overactive these days... The bizarre pomegranate-juice scenario from the night before was still so vivid, and it seemed he was not destined to a decent night's sleep this evening, either. Oh, troubling dreams were not new to him... He had taken to secreting away a cache of sleeping potion to chase away the nightmares.

But these new dreams were far from nightmares, and they seemed to be centered around a certain tall, elegant colleague of his.

Growling again to make himself feel better, he beat the pillow into submission and closed his eyes decisively.

Just as his breathing had become shallow once more in sleep...

_"I'm considering how profitable it would be to just give you the bottle. Tell me, Ms. Trefethen, what's in it for me if I do?"_

"God damn it!"

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle…

Along one of the walls of the tiny, cluttered sitting room resided a fainting couch- oh, it wasn't much, just a pretty little piece that came with the chairs and happened to be long enough for one Sabine Trefethen to stretch out on when her own bed proved too warm for comfort.

So it was that Sabine protracted along this sofa, her left forearm crossed over her forehead and her other arm diagonal across her body. A low moan escaped her thin, relaxed lips, for she was deep in slumber, and her shoulders tensed and rolled as some slurred French mumbling resonated through the room.

"_Ah, Professeur, vous le prendrez de moi maintenant?_"

Meanwhile, just above the couch was a mirror with a gilded frame; instead of a reflection of the room, however, it showed a chamber with hardwood floors, a black canopy bed and two middle-aged witches, one fair and blonde and the other flushed and freckled as the latter pressed her hands against the glass and looked downward.

"Tarla... I think she's having the pomegranate dream again."


	11. Wine of the Damned

Severus climbed the winding staircase to Sabine's quarters and informed the guarding statue of the password. The sullen thing moved aside, staring at him coolly out of graven stone eyes, and Severus stepped forward, rapping on the door with his knuckles.

He'd considered going in, figuring that the door opened, after all, into merely a sitting chamber, but decided against it. He checked the time while waiting for his partner in crime to answer the door.

With a sharp gasp, Sabine sat up, her straight black hair falling around her shoulders as she examined the room. It was empty, and although the air was cool and fresh, and pink morninglight streamed in through the full-length window, something didn't seem right. What had awoken her? The clock showed her an ungodly time, and she blinked at it a few times.

It wasn't right- she was far too alert, and the sensation gave her a dull ache in her forehead in protest to having appeared so suddenly. What a dream- a recurring dream, she reflected. There had been... "Severus?" she murmured softly. "Severus!" The next word was a bark; she had forgotten to rise early! "I'll be out in a moment!"

Thank God she had taken to showering at night to save time in the morning. Leaving her thin blanket on the cobbles, Sabine hastened to unbutton her high-necked white cotton nightgown and don head-to-toe black: button-up blouse, skirt, and boots followed by a bottle-green robe with a black belt that would be easy to remove. Jewelry was forsaken for the day, negative the silver hairpins she used to fasten hastily brushed hair into a pile and the two rings on her left finger. She had slept wearing them.

That done, it only took Sabine moments to emerge outside. "Forgive me."

Severus stepped back from the door as a slightly flustered Sabine emerged. Faced with the literal woman of his dreams, he was sure he blushed, if only slightly. He hoped that his amusement would hide the unexpected and inconvenient reaction.

"I would have waited," He remarked, chuckling softly. "I apologize if I startled you." He procured a porcelain mug, apparently out of nowhere. "Coffee?" The distinct aroma marked it as his French and Colombian blend, as the rich Arabic seemed better suited for evening consumption.

The Master, accustomed to rising at ungodly hours, was already alert and carefully dressed; form the tips of his black shoes, which peeked out from beneath his robes; to the black hair that was neatly tied back.

"Thank God," Sabine repeated to herself, retrieving the cup of coffee and sipping at it, letting out a low sigh as its effects consumed her. In fact, she barely stopped herself from releasing an appreciative whimper. Sweet coffee, her true friend, her inspiration; her lover in times of war, her guide in times of need. Wonderful, wonderful aroma, magnificent taste, such welcome sensations as the scalding liquid flowed past her lips. Nectar of mortals! Wine of the damned!

She was finished within minutes.

"Thank you very much," she said finally, taking a deep breath before offering back the empty mug and straightening her robes. "Shall we... wait. From where did you summon the mug so efficiently?"

Watching his colleague down the coffee, her appreciation and relief etched upon her features, Severus was struck by a bizarre brand of amusement. Her pleased sigh, complete lack of attention toward anything else and compulsive urge to straighten her robes when she had finished the drink gave an entirely new meaning to the term "coffee lover." He smirked, accepting the mug, and bowed graciously.

"Madam," he replied in response to her question. "I am a wizard." The mug vanished. Still wearing the smirk, he tossed her earlier words back to her. "Now... Shall we?"

"We shall."


	12. Let it Be War

"So, a fancy masque ball?" Madam Malkin seemed very excited about the prospect as she chattered cheerfully away, Sabine standing expressionless with her arms spread straight out, like a good mannequin, as a shiny purple tape measurer recorded the distance between her earlobe and the bridge of her nose.

Meanwhile, the plump seamstress was fitting Sabine with a pair of simple, hooded black robes, the likes of which swaddled her form in a fashion appropriate of Britain. Upon originally entering the shoppe, Sabine had considered purchasing a few more sets- but those thoughts were demolished when she realized that when Madam said that she'd guarantee each fit, she _meant_ it.

"Certainly," Miss Trefethen replied with a sigh, almost choking on the measurer- it now wanted to see how far she could stretch her mouth. "Is this really necessary?" Was the disdainful retort, to which Madam Malkin clucked her tongue. "You want to have the most flattering robes possible for your gentleman friend, do you not?"

"...Sure." _I hate this store._

Chuckling at the inane chatter and exasperated sighs that issued from the back room, Severus turned from his critical examination of Madame Malkin's storefront window to view the robemaker's latest victim. The tutting seamstress bustled out of a back room, Sabine in tow. The tall woman wore a look of long-suffering, in addition to her new robes.

Madame Malkin, laboring under the vague delusion that the robes were for a fancy-dress ball, gestured to Sabine happily, showcasing her wares. The Master suddenly stopped laughing.

"What do you think?" She asked, then vanished behind a display with the look of someone who has forgotten an important detail, not waiting for a reply.

Severus eyed his colleague critically, onyx eyes checking the length and cut of the fitted black robes – to ensure they were properly made, of course. The deep jet of the new cloth contrasted startlingly with Sabine's pale skin. "Hmm." He nodded shortly in approval, then realized with alarm that he had just emitted the same satisfied purr that had awoken him from his dream the night before.

The Master cleared his throat and busied himself by counting out the necessary coins, assuming an expression of studied disinterest.

A faint hint of colour rose to pale cheeks as Ms. Trefethen stepped towards Severus, extending her arms slightly to let him observe the way the sleeves fell. Although she was sure he didn't intend it, she could not help but feel a bit wary of his opinion.

_Well, it makes sense. He knows more on the subject than you, remember. If he approves, _they'll_ approve._

"What a woman," Sabine muttered, stepping behind the slide upon which hung her green robes, and beside them her belt. Trading, then, her new set for her old, the woman was momentarily clad only in her muggle ensemble before donning the plain bottle-coloured piece and fastening it at the waist.

"Now," she began, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Sverus, "What has come over you? You're acting strangely all of a sudden."

_"What a woman,"_

Severus blinked. _I did not say that..._ He realized in the next heartbeat that it was Sabine's voice that had made the comment, and that she was referring to Madame Malkin, not...

_What the hell is wrong with you?_ He hissed at himself. His imagination quailed under the wrath of his inner voice, and fell silent. _You're acting like a goddamn schoolboy, get ahold of yourself, for the love of all things holy!_

He looked up from the coins, setting the proper amount on the counter and ringing the bell for the good Madame, and offered the same expression of schooled blandness. "What are you talking about?" He gestured toward her. "The robes are superb... That is, they will please my 'fellow minions,' as you put it."

Like most proprietors, Madam Malkin began her journey to the counter before the ring of the bell and after the jingle of coins. This did not stop, however, a large smile and some thoughtless babble about enjoying the new robes. When she had scuttled off once again, Sabine smiled after her, letting it fade slightly when her gaze return to Severus.

"I can't explain it, exactly. The way you looked at me a moment ago, and then the sudden removal of your attention. Perhaps I'm imagining it in my excitement, but I doubt it. If something is on your mind, I implore you to share."

Severus balked like a stubborn mule, looking anywhere but at her, which resulted on his rather thoughtful gaze falling on a dressmaker's dummy.

"It's nothing," he replied, lying through his teeth - but then again, the Master was a very accomplished liar. "I was just considering other matters that could be taken into account to ensure your safety... Purchasing those-" He gestured at the parcel that contained the now folded and wrapped robes, "Seems to carry with it a touch of finality... I don't think I'd quite convinced myself that you were coming with me."

_What, the rings weren't purchased for that exact purpose?_ His inner voice sneered at him. He ignored it.

Suddenly, a new thought came to him, and it brought to his features a concerned expression. "Have you been trained in Occlumency?"

"I see..." Sabine examined her friend closely for a moment, before accepting his response with less than a shrug. It wasn't terribly important, at any rate. Gathering up the parcel and tucking it under her elbow, Sabine slid her other hand comfortably into the crook of Severus' arm in anticipation of quick departure.

"I had always meant to learn, and I've studied it, but it's very different to know something in theory and in practice. I suppose, now that you bring the subject up, that it would be in my best interest. Do you..."

She stopped and scolded herself for the thought: _Do you know someone trustworthy?_ Of course Severus had experience with Occlumency, she chided herself. It was fairly crucial for his line of duty.

"That is, I assume you would like to teach me?"

Severus glanced down at Sabine's hand on his arm, then raised his gaze to her. "Yes, I believe it would be prudent." He commented. "You, of course, must select a convenient time, but I would..." He paused, and cleared his throat. "I would feel a great deal more comfortable if you had a way to guard your mind from invading forces. When you find an available moment, my services are always at your disposal."

They had reached a portion of the street marked out by a white line that was free of people... A regulated Apparition point. Apparition was safer in these locations because it helped to prevent splinching onself, or taking part of someone else to a location that person did not want any of themselves to be in.

"To Hogsmeade, then?" He asked.

"My nights," Sabine said, having followed Severus' gaze to her arm and back (did he not want her contact? He didn't object...), "are free, excluding Sundays whereupon I visit Abigail and Tarla. You may choose from those days as it pleases you; I have very few set engagements."

Then with a nod Sabine removed her hand from Severus' arm and closed her eyes, gripping her parcel lightly and taking only a moment to disappear with an almost startling POP.

Severus studied the place she had been only a moment before quizzically, frowning slightly.

_But you_ liked _her hand there,_ his inner voice complained sullenly.

"Shut up." He muttered, and as he was squeezed rudely through space from one location to another, he meditated that he really should stop talking to himself.


	13. The Three Broomsticks

Severus appeared in the street outside the Three Broomsticks, taking an abrupt step back when he realized he had Apparated rather too close to his companion for comfort.

"Well then," He commented, taking out his pocketwatch. "Perhaps this would be more efficient if we were to go our separate ways and return here in an hour." He returned the watch to his robes. "Your opinion on the matter?"

"Oh!" Sabine chuckled as Severus stepped back, choosing to disregard the situation as she, too stepped away. "An excellent idea," she reflected, eyeing the area around. "I have been looking forward to exploring Hogsmeade. I understand that it's supposed to have something for everyone.

Waving her arm vaguely, Sabine nodded. "I'll take the left side, and you the right, if that suits you."

Severus nodded. "Certainly. I shall see you here in an hour, then." Raising a hand in noncommittal farewell, as he knew that he would soon see her again, he turned on his heel and prowled off down the street to stalk his prey.

Now, crushing her hands before her in impatience, Sabine nodded her good-byes and stalked off towards Honeydukes. Abby had told her to try something called a 'Cockroach Cluster', and yet Sabine expected that she would be passing up such a delicacy.


	14. Candy, Cauldrons and Orange Tea

((This chapter was written entirely by Eileen. Revel in its glory.))

Now, crushing her hands before her in impatience, Sabine nodded her good-byes and stalked off towards Honeydukes. Abby had told her to try something called a 'Cockroach Cluster', and yet Sabine expected that she would be passing up such a delicacy.

Cockroach Clusters, the only item on the magical market that is marketed directly to hags. This was Sabine's assumption, because having observed the treats in the 'Special Tastes' section of Honeydukes, she was fairly sure that she had never met a human that could enjoy such a thing and still fall out of the aforementioned category. Small wonder the bin was brimming, she reflected with a sneer. However, the blood-flavoured lollipop sample that she currently held in her mouth was surprisingly savoury.

Sabine had never actually been able to do the 'tourist thing' in her time in Britain; now she made up for that to some extent. It was not her purpose, however, and so Sabine waited until the shop was almost empty (not a difficult task, considering seventy percent of the children in town were currently ignoring their homework up at Hogwarts) to pay for her bouquet of lollipops and three chocolate frogs- those had been a sinful indulgence of hers since her schooldays, and were one of the few things in the shop that were marketed widely in America.

Mrs. Flume was exactly Sabine's kind of woman, tall and straight with an impeccable bun and a closed smile through lips that reflected the colour of the candy floss in the jar directly behind her. Despite this, Sabine was very amused by the other woman, and found her wit positively charming.

"It must be difficult around this time of year, with all of the kids up at school," Sabine pointed out, leaning on the counter as the two ladies each enjoyed a lollipop from Sabine's bundle: her own a deep crimson and Mrs. Flume's a lime green.

"Ah, but it isn't so terrible." The second's voice hinted at stereotypical French upbringing, in the tinge of her accent and her slightly irritating tendency to begin each sentence with a whimsical sigh. "They will start to come around October. In the meantime, I have the adults to keep my company with."

Sabine nodded her empathy, and gestured towards the general direction of the castle. "I can only imagine the sorts of stories that travel down that railway."

Mrs. Plume laughed- a laugh which, in Sabine's opinion, sounded rather like a hen's cackle- and patted her own dimpled hand against Sabine's pale one. "You would laugh, my dear, laugh! Only this summer there were students in here chattering about seeing strange sights in the Forbidden Forest the previous year- large areas of flora crushed flat and the like." 

The conspiracy in her voice was amazing. "Why, I ask, are there students traipsing off to the Forbidden Forest? If my Violet! But, again, who knows what sort of things could be hidden in that awful place- why, I was terrified as a child!"

"Who, indeed," Sabine agreed, tapping her lollipop to the corner of her mouth. "Mrs. Plume, if you will excuse me, I have some business at Dervish and Banges."

Tea rooms were not exactly Sabine's cup of tea. That much was certain.

Madam Puddifoot herself was a medium height, but otherwise very large woman indeed with horrible white robes made almost entirely out of lace, and blonde curls that spilled from a white hat to surround a cherubic face with enormous blue doe-eyes, reminding Sabine very much of one of her favourite trophy wives in New York. Now, though, she portrayed none of the elder-sisterly gestures that she would around Mrs. Tobias Fynn and instead sighed with fading patience as the good Madam babbled about nothing in particular and continued to fill Sabine's teacup.

If there was one thing that could turn Sabine off to tea forever, it was the taste of orange tea with sugar. In fact, it was all the poor woman could do not to shudder with repulsion at each sip.

Yet Madam Puddifoot chattered on. "Oh! You're such a lovely lady, what an honour to have such a prim young maid in my tearoom, are you married? I spy a ring or two! Lucky girl, how romantic! When I was young I dreamed of honeymooning in Paris, I did! Have you ever been to Paris? What about..."

All of this left Sabine to nod and smile politely, keeping her eyes on Madam Puddifoot and her ears on the table next to her, which was the only reason she had not yet left...

"Quite a little club the Slytherins are forming, and a few of the Ravenclaws, too. You never see them alone now, always huddled together and whispering... anyone would think that House had divided between itself! Let me tell you, if Hogwarts develops rivalries within its Houses, the students will remove one another before anyone else has a chance to."

Letting out a deep breath, Sabine gave Madam Puddifoot her best smile. "Won't you bring my bill, Madam? I do believe I've annoyed you quite long enough."

_Now, you mustn't get your hopes up,_ Sabine told herself calmly as she listened to the sound of her low heels clicking on the walkway of the shop labeled Dervish and Banges, the glittery pink Honeydukes bag swinging from her elbow. _Not all of the residents of Hogsmeade will be as compliant as Mrs. Flume._

Upon that thought, Sabine pushed the door and was greeted by the tinklish of a bell and the smell of cauldron grease. "Hello?" she greeted the empty room, immediately hearing to retorts of two snickering shrunken heads distended from the ceiling near the counter.

"Well, if it isn't the little Yank we've heard so much tell about!"

"I've been in Hogsmeade half an hour!" Sabine replied indignantly.

"Word travels fast with us! We're rather ahead of the times!" This, of course, set both of them into fits of shrieking laughter, and Sabine was left to stare incredulously at them.

Finally, a short, corpulent bald wizard with bright yellow robes and a wide black belt scuttled in from the back room, booming a ferocious reprimand that set the heads mostly quiet, resigned to making small rude noises now and then. "Excellent, a customer!" the man bellowed heartily, wringing a wide-eyed Sabine's hand. "John Banges, at your service, my fine girl! What might I do for you?" One could _hear_ the additional punctuation.

Immediately after having them released, Sabine folded her hands behind her back and locked her fingers protectively. "I was," she squeaked, clearing her throat before continuing in a composed tone: "I was hoping to look into a small copper cauldron, and a bit of friendly chat."

Having been informed in quite a loud manner that she had come to the right place for both (how did she guess?), Sabine was led to a shelf of cauldrons fitting her specifications, and after having examined and drilled the man on his knowledge of a few, Sabine slipped in her question in a casual manner: "Mr. Banges, have you experienced anything strange of late? I've heard rumours floating around."

"Strange?" the man laughed, making Sabine jump. "My fine girl, this is the wizarding world! Everything been running smoothly in this shop, if that's what you mean."

Chuckling lightly, Sabine shook her head. "I was only curious. Nothing?"

"Nothing!" agreed Mr. Banges with an enthusiastic guffaw. Sabine briefly wondered if he had been spending too much time at Honeydukes. "Been having good business lately- a good deal of cauldron bottoms sold lately. I always said they should have paid attention to that petition, eh? And my only Invisibility Cloak, gone at top price! Lucky day..."

Tuning out, Sabine cast her gaze over to the wall where hung a display of large, thick round discs. Fairly useless to her. With a sigh, Sabine offered Mr. Banges a cheerful farewell and a promise to think on the cauldron before exiting. Once outside, and having closed the door, she massaged the funnel of her left ear with two fingers. "Ow..."


	15. Flirtation, Bribery and Intimidation

((This chapter was written entirely by Lindsay. Enjoy.))

Severus slipped quietly into the store, applauding himself on his stealth. 

...Apparently not stealthy enough, he groaned inwardly, as a vivacious, French-accented and inherently irritating blonde approached him. She was in her mid thirties, with the beginnings of crow's feet and laugh lines to edge her light skin, but she still had the high, laughing tone of a girl less than half her age.

Severus sighed. "Hello, Cassandra." He had made purchases from this store, true enough, but he had set foot in the shop once, only once. Even still, it seemed that the woman - whose purpose in the business was vague, for Severus doubted she had been employed strictly to annoy customers - had somehow caught wind of his family fortune and was determined to get her manicured hands into it, one way or another.

"Ah, Master Snape," she greeted warmly, and Severus scowled at her use of his title... It just did not sound right. "You are here for ze new robes, no?"

He blinked. "What? No, I have no idea what you're talking about." He hadn't ordered anything new...

"But you must! New robes to impress ze lady I saw you with outzide of ze window, only a moment ago."

Severus gave a barely perceptible eyeroll. "No. She is a friend of mine, only that. I'm actually here to-"

"Ah! So still a seengle man, eh?" Cassandra giggled.

_Dear God, woman, just stop talking!_ He was already getting a headache. Oh, well, desperate times...

He reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder, which effectively silenced the woman. She stared at him, her mouth slightly open, as she had frozen mid-sentence.

"No, Cassandra," He repeated softly. "I am here to ask you about anything you may have seen or heard recently that struck you as odd."

"I 'ave seen nothing-" She began to protest, but Severus shook his head. Wrong answer.

"Surely, someone as observant as you, mademoiselle..." He purred. That voice could have melted chocolate at twenty paces, and he knew it. The woman softened visibly, her stubborn look replaced by a slight smile.

"Well, per'aps..." She gave in. "I 'ave sold many robes recently, all of ze same material..."

"Which would be...?" He pressed.

She reached behind the counter, and Severus observed her exaggerated movements with utmost boredom. _That_ was certainly not his purpose here.

"Zis." She held out a length of the cloth, and Severus ran his sensitive fingertips over it. They tingled...

"Protective cloth?" He asked.

She nodded, pleased. "Durable az armour, but az light az ze feather, no?"

"Yes, indeed..." He murmured, musing, and backed away.

"Leaving so soon, Professuer?" She seemed nonplused.

"Yes, Cassandra, thank you. You've been most helpful."

"And, once again, you 'ave not." She grumbled irritably, tugging her robes back into their proper fit.

The Potions Master stepped with no small amount of trepidation into Zonko's Joke Shop. He had seen havoc wreaked in more than one class by products from this very store. He had confiscated countless items and even been the unamused victim of a select few. Thus it was with roused suspicions that he entered the lion's den, as it were.

He approached the counter, recognizing the clerk as one of his former students. _Damn._ Fortunately, the young man was a Hufflepuff, so it would require only a small amount of finesse.

The youth did not look up from his comic book, and Severus sneered. "Mr. Anderson."

The clerk leaped out of his chair, his freckled face white as he blinked rapidly, not quite believing that his old Potions professor was standing before him.

"S-sir?" He stammered.

Severus sneered, gesturing around. "I see you've come far since your school days."

The boy would have known that smooth, sarcastic voice anywhere... Of course, it was one he had hoped to never hear again after leaving school. "Yes, sir."

"Tell me, Anderson," Severus continued. "Have you heard any rumours from Hogwarts, recently?"

"No, sir."

Severus leaned over the counter, still as tall as the stocky youth, and let his jet black eyes bore into his victim. "Do not lie to me, Anderson." He hissed. "You know better."

The youth swallowed. "There were some Slytherins in here the other day, sir."

"Which day?"

"Thursday, sir."

"And?" Severus growled.

"They kept talking about 'in three weeks.' That's all I know." He added quickly.

Severus raised a brow, straightening. "Very good, Anderson." He said, and swept out of the shop.

Severus pushed open the door to the Hog's Head cautiously, looking around. He had his suspicions about the place, which had a reputation for harboring dark characters... But his own history here... His stomach plummeted as he remembered that this was the place, and not Hogwarts, where he had come to Dumbledore, begging for forgiveness, for redemption...

_I cannot dwell on that now._ He told himself, and forced the all-too-vivid memory to the back of his mind.

He took a seat at the furthest end of the bar, which was more or less deserted, and held up one finger, placing a Galleon on the scarred wood. A mug of some murky substance that the Master had absolutely no intention of drinking was placed before him, but before the bartender could return to wiping glasses with a grimy rag, Severus beckoned him forward. He slipped another Galleon out of his coin purse and toyed with it absently; his long fingers balancing the golden disk, swallowing it out of sight within his palm, then opening it to reveal its flash. When the 'tender's attention was fully his, Severus spoke.

"Have you heard any news about business up at the castle?" He asked in a low voice.

"May'ap." The man replied with a vague shrug. Severus nodded and set the Galleon down, withdrawing another.

"Such as?"

"I hear tell there's summat new in the forest... Lots of animals coming down from in there, and folks hear yellin', not human, like, late at night when they're tryin' to sleep."

Severus nodded. "Anything else?"

"Not as I know."

The Master handed over the Galleon and left the pub with all due haste. Tendrils of memory were creeping too readily back into his mind.


	16. Fruit of the Vine

Severus returned to the Three Broomsticks, slipping into a sheltered table toward the back of the pub and after a long moment's deliberation, held up two fingers to Madame Rosmerta for whatever the specialty was that particular day. It turned out to be the cool gillywater, and Severus nodded in vague approval as the good Madame went to retrieve the drinks.

Severus checked his pocketwatch. Going by Sabine's usual punctuality, she would be returning any moment...

"I am never, ever going to look at confetti the same way again," a voice moaned in lamentation from behind Severus. Only seconds later Sabine traveled around to seat herself next to him, sliding one of the glasses over her way. "How did you make out? And... was this recommended?"

Waiting for a reply, Sabine resigned herself to eyeing the drink skeptically.

Severus chuckled at the tone in Sabine's voice as she rounded the table and took a seat next to him. "Yes," he replied, gesturing at the glasses, "Though I confess I am not pleased with the selection." He waved Madame Rosmerta over again, and the woman took two fresh drink orders (Severus favoring the red wine) and vanished behind the bar again.

"I have discovered - through desperate measures of bribery, flirtation and intimidation," he added, "That there have been many robes purchased in this area recently of protectively spelled cloth. There have also been bands of Slytherin students wandering about, gossiping about an apparently important event that will take place in three weeks from last Thursday; and residents of the village have heard a not quite human roaring from the forest at night."

As their drinks were placed before them, Severus saw his companion reach for her purse. On impulse, he reached across the table, covering her hand with his, and offered a genuine, if small smile.

"Please," He said softly, lowering his voice to avoid drawing attention to himself. "Let me... I have a rather large inheritance that I cannot seem to get rid of."

Only then did he realize where his hand had fallen, and removed it with all due haste, looking down at his drink and, of course, clearing his throat. But he could not help but notice how very keen his hand was to remain exactly where he had placed it, and how naturally the gesture had come to him... Perhaps he was taking the masquerade a little too seriously.

He hazarded a glance in Sabine's direction, swallowed, and finally raised the drink to his lips. "So, dare I ask-" Though it seemed he dared to do just about anything today... "What did _you_ find out?"

Sabine reflected Severus' order of red wine and folded her hands in her lap, leaning forward slightly as she listened to Severus' story. One thing irked her momentarily- flirtation? After a nanosecond of spinning visions regarding blonde trollops in inappropriate clerking uniforms, Sabine gave a shake of her head (that appeared more a nervous twitch than anything) to clear her mind.

After having listened to the information shared with her, Sabine found herself very quickly surprised by a large, rough pale hand upon fishing for the small velvet pouch hanging by a cord from her belt. "Oh!" came the small noise when originally stopped, shortly followed by a smile when her imaginary spouse explained the situation and withdrew his hand (though it came as a startling surprise that Sabine would not have objected to its loitering for a while). "I see. Well, although I still think you dote upon me for little reason, I've found that steering you from your ideas is usually fruitless."

Having taken a casual sip of wine, if only to prolong the suspense, Sabine took a cue from Mrs. Flume and raised her eyebrows conspiratorially. "These Slytherins of yours have fairly divided amongst themselves, from what I understand, into two or three large groups, and have taken to clustering themselves together. Quite odd, considering that most I have met from your House seem to be very independent indeed. Students talking about areas of the forest near the school being cleared of vegetation- or rather, that the vegetation has been destroyed, as if crushed. And...well, really, that's all, except that someone seems to have been very eager to purchase an Invisibility Cloak from Dervish and Banges without raising a fuss."

Severus withdrew his hand, resting it upon the arm of his chair under the table, and folded his fingertips into his palm, trying to quiet his protesting nerves. It seemed individual parts of his skin had taken it upon themselves to complain at the absence of touch, and that would never do.

At Sabine's comment of doting he laughed, sitting back in his chair and studying her from under half-closed eyelids. He'd been watching her expression as he told what he had found, and thought he saw a flicker of some imperceptible emotion pass across her features at the word "flirtation," in the form of the slightest furrowing of brow, the barest tightening of the lips... But perhaps he was wrong.

After she had delivered her story - during which he had consumed the last of his wine - he pondered for a moment before replying. "My Slytherins divided, eh? Hmm. Protective cloth, Invisibility Cloak, and crushed masses of vegetation..." He tapped his long fingers on the table, his black eyes distant, before he shook himself to alertness again and looked at her.

"Shall we leave this place, then, before Rosmerta persuades us both to drink too deeply of the fruit of the vine?" He suggested in a soft, amused tone.

He was really very intriguing when he was deep in thought, she reflected absently, nursing at her wine while he attempted to sort out the puzzle. She herself turned the information over in her mind, setting the wine aside when she had ingested enough to inspire a slight euphoria before it clouded her mind.

"Yes," she agreed with a nod, placing her hands eagerly on the table. "In fact, there is one place that I meant to take a look at before leaving, if my dear husband will allow me the pleasure. Have you ever been to the Shrieking Shack?"

His face, which had begun to show amusement when she referred to him as "dear husband," registered a moment later with a look of incredulity, and then he began to laugh. Not a chuckle, or a snicker, but a full laugh that lasted for more than a moment. He held up a hand at her puzzled expression and finally stifled his amusement.

"Oh," he commented, after taking a breath. "I have almost lost my life there once or twice." He chuckled again at the subsequent response, and added, "Oh, you have no reason to fear. It merely seems that in that place _I_ have an unfortunate habit of meeting people who dislike me severely."

Rising and setting a handful of coins upon the table, he did not even think before holding out his hand to her. "Come. I shall tell you all as we journey toward the grim edifice itself."

Less puzzled than shocked, actually: her eyes were wide, and if she had not been raised otherwise, she would have let herself gape. "...Are you alright?" she asked timidly after the initial outburst (_I didn't know he could laugh_), to be replied to with his explanation. "I see. Well, I can assure you that you'll be with at least one person that doesn't dislike you _severely_," she replied, setting a gentle, teasing stress on the final word as she accepted his hand (equally without thought) and brought herself to her feet.

"This is so exciting," she confessed in a low voice as she led the way to the door. "Abigail and Tarla were going to drag me along around Halloween, but I would like to view it before then. I can hardly tell Abby that her unintelligible shrieks are ridiculous if I'm echoing them, can I?"

Severus chuckled at the idea as he followed his eager companion, removing his hand from hers, though not as abruptly as he had before, as he was not entirely aware of the gesture.

Yes, he thought it would be very amusing indeed for Sabine's friends to scream in horror at the imagined ghosts while his false wife knew that the shack's reputation came from a werewolf long gone from the premises.


	17. The Shrieking Shack

Severus wandered the streets of Hogsmeade with Sabine, climbing the hill to the decrepit old house that had once been a sanctuary to one of his most hated enemies. He had since formed a grudging respect for Remus Lupin, though one would never guess from watching them... Old wounds run deep.

Upon reaching the building, the Master made a quick excuse about clearing the path and slipped inside first, ducking into a shadowed corner behind a door and casting a "Do Not Notice" charm upon himself. If the woman played along as expected - which was a fifty/fifty chance - this would be very satisfying indeed. His grin, which no one could see, was absurdly boyish and contained more than a little mischief.

For a moment Sabine faltered, only to adjust her Honeydukes bag and brush some hair from her face. Well, here she was, standing on the pathway to a great, looming haunted house with possibly the scariest man in town. With a silent smirk she started up the walk, feeling very much like Little Red Riding Hood through the forest.

"Severus?" she asked through the door, biting her lip and she turned the handle. To be completely truthful, she was a little frightened...

_Not frightened. Nervous. You're a big girl, and big girls aren't scared of things like haunted houses. You're just nervous._

Still, it would have been nice to have someone escort her as she snuck quietly into the house, looking around critically. Where was the damnable man, anyway?

Severus released a low, animalistic growl as the woman entered with tentative steps, then slammed the door shut behind her, stepping in front of Sabine as she whirled around and raising his hands into the air in an exaggerated grabbing gesture.

Freezing as the growl reached her ears, Sabine straightened herself and began to turn slowly, although her speed dramatically increased when she heard her exit close off behind her. Then, before she could breathe, she came face-to-face with a horrible, looming gargoylesque monster, its sallow beastly face cast half into shadow by the strands of moonlight that broke through the rickety walls and ceiling.

For a moment her breath caught in her throat, and she finally screamed- well, no. She _screeched_, like a person being tortured or a claustrophobic arachnophobe trapped in the spider exhibit at the zoo.

_That nose looked familiar..._

Sabine stepped back, her hands pressed to her mouth and her eyes bulging. It was Snape. "Bastard," she gasped unenthusiastically. "Horrible-horrible...mean, mean, mean, _mean_ man. Wretched man."

Absorbing her verbal abuse, Severus was slumped against the doorframe, laughing helplessly at Sabine's expression... He wished fervently that he'd had a camera.

Finally gaining control of himself, Severus smirked at her, shaking the black hair out of his eyes, as it had fallen into his face during his very successful impersonation of a ghoul and the resulting hilarity. "Yes, I am all of the above, as I've been told before." He purred at her, his eyes flashing dark amusement. "However, now at least you will have a story about being frightened in the Shrieking Shack, which, as you are about to discover, contains little else more horrifying than spiders... And me." He sneered, not at her, but at his own morbid humour. "Come, if you are prepared to trust me again, and I shall relate to you the true story of this place during a brief tour."

Sabine glared at him, folding her arms as she chose to walk beside him, just close enough that their arms brushed (and incidentally, close enough that she would have something to thrust in front of her if something more dangerous than he popped out at them). "A small wonder, your reputation," she muttered with a sneer of her own.

"Very well, tell me your tale. I've never disliked a ghost story."

He chuckled at her glare and mutinous mutters, and proceeded.

"Not strictly a tale of ghosts," he corrected mildly. "We are dealing with werewolves. This house was built for the use of a werewolf... In the days before the wolfsbane potion was introduced." He added. "The afflicted young man was normal in every way, save for his transformation, which came as you are no doubt are aware once a month at the full moon. He was spirited here through a secret, guarded passage, and here he stayed until the moon had waned." His voice had become soft and commanding, the same voice he used to lecture the first years during their first lesson, though the subject would have been deemed more interesting by most.

"The inhuman screams that the townspeople heard were made by the young man as he transformed into the wolf and, having no humans to attack while locked inside the house, turned his animalistic wrath upon the building and upon himself. The Shack, as it was christened after its appearance was left to deteriorate and its reputation grew, became known as one of the most haunted locales in Britain, though not a single restless soul resides here, that I know of."

"In fact," he turned to her with a look of mock surprise. "I believe you may have made that young man's acquaintance, or have at least heard of him."

Originally, Sabine had intended to sulk and milk just a bit of guilt from Severus; however, this lovely thought held little water as she dropped her hands to listen to her friend's story. To be honest, she _had_ been expecting no more than a ghost story- a legend. This seemed perfectly believable, however, and at the last words a shiver ran down Sabine's spine.

"Made his acquaintence?" she repeated in surprise- actual surprise. "I've never met a werewolf in my life, unless the secret has been kept from me." And why shouldn't it have been? "Do explain further."

"If you have been to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," he informed her, lowering his voice, "You may have crossed paths with Remus Lupin. He was the young man, this house was built for him and the rumours encouraged by Dumbledore. And this," he pushed back a panel in the wall at the top of a rickety staircase they had just climbed, "Is how he got here." He looked out the filthy window at the fading light ((sunlight? moonlight? I don't know what time it is, but hey, the moon sets, too.)) and then back to her. "Do you think we have enough time for a cup of coffee before retiring?"

The panel moved away to reveal a dark passageway that plainly, by his words, led back to the castle.

Again Sabine shuddered, more with shock than anything. "He seemed so normal when I met him!" she exclaimed as she gazed down the passageway. "A bit peaked, perhaps, but I never look quite healthy myself. I never suspected. A fine man, though, don't you think?" Sabine turned to look briefly back at Severus before observing the tunnel once again.

"I don't believe I will join you for coffee tonight- I've been having rather strange dreams that I believe are partially caused by that Arabic brand of yours. We will go back this way, then?"

_A fine man, though, don't you think?_ Severus hid his sneer in the dark of the place they stood in, and was suddenly hit with a brief wave of inexplicable jealousy. Resentment he could have understood, but...

At her mention of strange dreams he snapped his eyes back to her, studying her carefully. Did she... Did she _know?_ No... of course not. He shook his head in the barest gesture of self-reassurance. She couldn't possibly. Then, perhaps...?

He gestured at the passageway. "I assumed that you would appreciate the experience. However, if you're still nervous of ghouls..." He smirked, his voice low and, of course, purring in amusement.

"I'm not afraid," Sabine snapped indignantly. _He didn't say you were._ Right. Yes. Well, clear your throat and move forward as though you had said nothing! This Sabine did, sniffing in mild irritation and turning back towards the passageway.

"Ah...I wouldn't deny a gentleman the priviledge of leading the way." Sabine raised her eyebrows in a rather sheepish manner, waiting until she was appropriately accompanied to enter into the dark path. "Please, though, no more surprise attacks. I'm an aging woman, after all. Now, actually, I wanted to ask you," she kept her voice hushed for unknown reasons, "if you would accompany me to Grimmauld Place tomorrow evening to visit my friends. From what I've heard, your first meeting didn't exactly go... smoothly... and they would like a chance to redeem themselves. And by 'they', I mean Abby and I, and by 'themselves', I mean Tarla Prestan."

Severus walked a safe distance from Sabine, his visible presence an unspoken but still amused promise to refrain from further startling episodes. He snorted softly in mild scorn of Sabine's reference to herself as an "aging woman," and then heard her request for his presence.

He generally preferred to remain as far away from Grimmauld Place as possible, instead delivering his reports directly to the Headmaster, but his interest was piqued at the opportunity to see Sabine interact with her rather unorthodox American friends. He nodded in the dark, then rolled his eyes at the pointless gesture and replied in a more audible form. "Yes, I will go. Your Ms. Prestan, then, is quite unrepentant." It was not a question, and he was not disturbed. "Perhaps if we had met under different circumstances, I might have gotten along with the woman."

Sabine sighed, walking with her hands folded in front of her as usual. "She's a good woman, you know, and very useful. She just takes a little getting used to, and... well, you can't take everything she says seriously, because she likes to be mean. As a hobby, you understand." Then, with a smile: "I seem to be drawn to characters like that, wouldn't you say?"

Severus smirked, chuckling as he stepped out onto the moonlit grass of the Hogwarts grounds, swiftly pressing the knot on the trunk of the Whomping Willow before it realized it had guests. The vicious tree was predisposed to knocking its visitors about, and Severus was not keen on recieving such a welcome.

He looked at Sabine, raising a brow, and said in a tone dripping innocence, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

And with that, he swept around, robes very black in the moonlight, and set off toward the castle.


	18. A Reflex

Severus held the tall, heavy door for Sabine by magic, because, honestly, it was ridiculously huge. He'd wondered since his school days why the main entrance to the castle had to be so obscenely large, and while he was far from physically weak, it was highly doubtful that he would be able to hold the behemoth of oak without a rather great effort. After the tall woman made her entrance, he allowed the door to shut, locking it securely in place.

"Then, I presume," he said with a slight bow, "That this is where we part. Good evening, Ms. Trefethen."

"Good night, Professor Snape," Sabine replied quietly, giving a polite nod of her head and brushing his forearm gently with her hand as she passed, branching out to an easterly corridor.

The gesture, she told herself, had been a reflex- after all, she was getting herself into the habit of acting the socially repressed wife.

Watching her leave, Severus felt his fingers twitch absently, and looked down in belated thoughtfulness at his arm. He curled his fingers into his palm again to quiet the tingling.

_Stop that._ He told himself severely, and descended into the dungeons.


	19. Not the Coffee

((This painfully short chapter was penned by Lindsay.))

Severus started toward the coffeepot, but his hand froze halfway to the handle.

_...Strange dreams..._

Scowling, he turned his back on the magical machine and stalked off to his armchair and his book, abstaining from the coffee with the occasional grudging glare in the direction of the coffeepot.

In little over an hour, the irritation was just too much to bear, and he took himself to bed, grumbling about caffeine addiction...

Sometime later, after the moon had set, a low, playful voice spoke from the Master's bedchamber.

"Well don't beg for it... I'll give you the bloody bottle!"

A gasp issued from the darkened doorway, followed by loud swearing and an angry growl. "Damn it, get out of my head!"


	20. A Pleasant Evening

As was the custom, the familiar face of Sabine Trefethen had looked into the gilded mirror above her couch into one of the guest bedrooms of 12 Grimmauld Place at precisely 1:13 in the afternoon. There to meet her was Abigail Brooke, occupying herself with a fashion magazine at the writing desk just below the component mirror belonging to Tarla Prestan, as did many of the things in this particular room.

"Hi, Sabine," Abigail chirped cheerily, closing the previous month's issue of Jinx and resting her chin on her hand. "Coming along shortly?"

With a compliant wave, Sabine shook her head. "No, not until later this evening. I won't join you for supper. Now, stop sulking," she commanded before Abby had the chance, "and let me talk to your friend for a moment."

Abby snorted unhappily and leant back in her chair before bellowing, "TARLA!"

Which in turn made Molly Weasley reprimand her, Tarla Prestan tell her to shut the goddamn hell up and Mrs. Black start screeching about dirty-blooded filth polluting the delicate atmosphere of her household, or something.

"She'll be right here."

"Thank you, Abigail."

Tarla appeared in the door, her hair wound into a low bun and wearing forest green robes with an emerald green wrap. All in all, she looked quite the part of the angry diva as she stormed into the room, slammed the door behind her and pulled Abby's chair away from the desk ("HEY!") so she could meet Sabine head on.

"What?"

"Don't get angry with me," Sabine said huffily. "I just wanted to tell you that I will be accompanied by my dear and beloved husband this evening, and I expect you to be on your best behavior. Abigail will make sure of it, in fact."

"I sure will."

"Shut up," muttered both of the other woman before Tarla hissed her reluctant agreement and Sabine's bitterly satisfied reflection dissolved into Tarla's bitterly jealous one. Turning from the mirror, the pretty witch folded her arms and clamped her jaw, declaring through her teeth:

"I don't like him."

Severus entered the house that evening cautiously, his footsteps almost silent behind Sabine both to avoid waking the temperamental Mrs. Black as they walked past her portrait, and to avoid rousing the wrath of one Tarla Prestan, which would be, he suspected, equally venomous but more tangible.

Perhaps it was his imagination, but the sullen woman's dislike was almost palpable before he even saw her.

"Sabine," he murmured softly when they were a safe distance away from the portrait, "Should I be holding my wand or just use you as a shield?"

Sabine paused as though considering this for a moment, then sighed. "I don't think it'll be necessary. Just don't make any sudden movements or noises and she probably won't attack." _I hope._

Ms. Trefethen led her companion past the stairs and down a hallway until they had reached the parlor, which was clear of inhabitants. A piano sat in the corner and a fireplace directly beside it; candles provided light where the windows (which distinctly lacked clarity) did not.

That done, Sabine gestured towards the selection of sofas and chairs in the room, all of which matched and had dramatically clawed feet. "I suppose we wait."

He nodded, suppressing a grunt of complaint, and sank into a chair, clasping his hands and staring into the fireplace.

The chair was not as comfortable as it could have been, however, though that was by no fault of its own. The Master was sitting straight-backed and rigid, his expression unsuccessfully attempting to disguise "tense" as "attentive."

Barely suppressing a smile, Sabine leaned on the arm of Severus' chair and lending a hand to his shoulder, rolling her thumb in a circle in an attempt to help him relax. "Good God, Severus, she won't bite you."

"Don't be too sure." The lightly accented voice floated from the doorway and Abby strutted in as if she owned the place. "Darling's looked like she could take a chunk out of anyone in her way since noon." Well, not quite noon.

Abigail was easygoing, luckily for everyone, and after giving Sabine a one-armed hug extended her hand to Severus. "I don't think we've ever properly met. Abby Brooke, Official Secretary to the bane of your evening tonight."

Severus did all he could to keep from leaning into Sabine's touch... _What?_ His inner voice demanded of him. _It feels good!_

_Shut up. _He told himself sternly. _You never needed a woman to rub your shoulders before and you don't need one now, God damn it, especially not now! _

His attempt was greatly assisted by the sudden appearance of Abigail Brooke, known to Sabine as Abby, apparently, and he straightened again from the fraction of relaxation into which he had slipped, holding out a hand to clasp the woman's. "It is good to officially make your acquaintance." He said quietly. "I assume, then, that I should find a place to hide as quickly as possible?" There was a touch of the familiar sardonic humor in his tone, while his raised brow made it plain that he had no intention of hiding.

"I like him," Abigail told Sabine plainly, pulling up the bench from the piano to seat herself at a comfortable distance from Severus.

"So do I," Sabine agreed with a smirk, joining Abigail on the bench. Abby fairly ignored her.

So, keeping her voice at an even volume, so as not to encourage these whispers that she found ridiculous, Ms. Brooke continued: "There'll be no need. Tarla is going to be on good behavior tonight. Aren't you, Tarla?" Abigail grinned comfortably towards the door; her timing was impeccable, because at that moment Tarla entered as though she personally owned everyone in the room, and in fact the world.

"We'll see. Sabine, charmed. Snape... I haven't decided. How was the journey?" Tarla chose a corner of a sofa somewhat further from Abigail and Tarla, but positioned so that she could see as much of the Potions Master's face as possible. Once there, she rested her elbow on the arm and crossed her legs- she seemed determined to prove that she wasn't going to be swayed by the preferences of her friends.

Severus observed the ease with which Sabine and Abby interacted, the warmth and comfort of old friends that he had seen but never experienced. He smiled very slightly in amusement as Abby passed her judgment on him and Sabine replied. The smile vanished, however, when the chill that was Ms. Tarla Prestan entered the room. Her place in the circle was apparent through the words exchanged, though on that night she seemed distanced from them by sheer opinion on his presence there.

At her question, Severus glanced at Sabine to be sure that she had no intention of answering, then replied "Uneventful," in a deliberately even voice.

_Every time an awkward silence falls, an idiot is born._ He mused inanely. _Dear God, I may have just created another Neville Longbottom._

The blonde woman missed not a beat:

"An excellent conversationalist." Tarla did nothing to mask her sarcasm, though to her credit her facial features twitched as though trying not to pull into a sneer. "Sabine?" She didn't take her eyes off of the man.

"He's right. I'd say it was the first time since we met that we've gone an hour without incident... did I tell you that he nearly gave me a heart attack yesterday night, popping out of the shadows like a madman and frightening me?"

"You hadn't said," Tarla replied smoothly. "So, then, an excellent conversationalist and a gentleman."

Ever tactful, Abby stood up and stepped forward, immediately drawing the attention of Tarla and Sabine. "I'm thirsty, and I know that Sabine and Tarla won't let me drink alone. Professor, can I interest you in a drop of poison?"

"That would be very welcome," Severus inclined his head to Abby, "Thank you."

Returning his gaze to the always gracious Tarla, the Master narrowed his eyes slightly and steepled his fingertips... His students knew well that the gesture was a sign of danger, but he was determined to keep his temper this night.

"I'm sure you were aware of my social reputation before this evening, Ms. Prestan," he replied coolly, "And as for being a gentleman, well, I never claimed to be. I understand, however, that I am not the only one here who possesses legendary bad temperament."

Tarla raised her eyebrows, making the grey eyes beneath more prominent. Something in them flickered... and it wasn't necessarily a bad something. "Is that so?" she asked, blending innocence and sarcasm to produce an unlikely tone.

So, as Abby silently slid out of the room and Sabine bit her lip, Tarla continued. "You will find that the two of us are regrettably similar, Snape. Now, indulge me, if you will, because my curiosity gets the better of me: how long exactly do you intend to play the role of spouse to our Sabine?"

Severus pondered for a silent moment, his gaze traveling slowly from his left hand on the arm of the chair, to Sabine, to the flames in the fireplace, and back to Tarla. "Without doubt, up to the meeting in just under three weeks." He replied slowly. "However - and I say this in all seriousness - it may be in Sabine's best interest to remain behind the mask for a bit longer. For if she is investigated by the Death Eaters, it would be extremely dangerous for her to be discovered as merely an actress playing a part."

Tarla nodded curtly, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward slightly in her seat. "Naturally, I had assumed that you two would keep the charade up for a good while. What I mean is, she will be returning to America in ten months' time. What story would you give? Sabine, have you thought about this? What are you grinning at?"

Shaking her head, Sabine tried in vain to pull the smile from her face. Of course, give Tarla something buisnesslike to occupy her time with and it would balance out any personal crosses she bore at the time. "Actually, I hadn't thought," she confessed, only then the satisfied look sliding away from her features.

"Ha," Tarla bristled sourly. "Thank you, Abby."

For at that moment Abigail had returned, bringing a tray set with wine goblets around. "Any time. What's all this about Sabine not thinking? That doesn't happen often."

Severus accepted the wine glass with a polite but murmured "Thank you," and suppressed a chuckle at Abby's comment.

"Sabine, though not entirely out of reach in America, will be much safer there." Severus replied to Tarla's words. "She may resume her life, more or less, as it was before." He felt an unexpected pang of emotion at this thought, though it was silenced before he could determine its origin.

"I, on the other hand, will be required to give an account of my wife's absence. However," He sneered, "Falsities seem to be my strong point when dealing with the Dark Lord and his minions." The sneer was a cover for the look of weary resignation that always appeared, however fleeting, when he dwelled too long upon the topic at hand.

Sabine accepted her wine glass with an air of equal resignation, although for a different reason. "There's time to think on it yet. Tarla, Severus is good at what he does. We'll be fine, I'm almost certain."

Abby gave a happy nod and sunk onto the bench again, setting her glass of wine on the floor beside her and otherwise disregarding it.

On the other hand, Tarla had gone temporarily silent, as though deep in thought, once again leaning back and crossing her legs. "I'm happy about that," she said softly, her voice containing no hint of sharp emotion, and even an extent of affection, for the first time since entering the room. Then, suddenly, and on a similar level as before: "I've heard that you're a very skilled Occlumens, and plan on giving Sabine lessons."

Severus paused for a fraction of a second, then nodded. _Well, you are a very skilled Occlumens, there's no point in denying it,_ his inner voice commented with a hint of smugness.

"Yes, I believe that it would be prudent," he answered. "I expect the Dark Lord and his servants to use Legilimency - it is a trick that He favors - And it is very important that Sabine be capable of guarding her mind." He paused. "If she is unsuccessful in learning the technique," he spared Sabine a glance and offered a thin smile, "Which I doubt she will be, I can brew a potion that will dull the appearance of important thoughts. To an outsider, she will appear somewhat... dim. But I'm sure she'd rather appear stupid to an invader in her mind than allow that invader to glean important information from her consciousness."

"I don't know. She's quite proud at times." Tarla lent Sabine a critical eye, and under the stare of two (quickly three, once Abby decided to join in the fun) of her friends, Sabine went slightly pink.

"Good God, Tarla, I'm not so vain," she protested. "I'd gladly give up my sharpness for a night or two in these circumstances. And anyway, I've met enough naive trophy wives that I'm sure I could fake the part well enough."

"Trophy?" Tarla gave Sabine a surprisingly good-natured smirk. "Nonsense. You're far too clever, and too good for that title. Now, Snape," steeling her gaze as she turned back to him, and as Sabine averted her eyes demurely, "I'll accept that I've always held an interest in Occlumency. When will lessons begin, and what exactly will you do with her during?"

Severus allowed himself the opportunity to envision Sabine as his trophy. The result was both amusing and disconcerting, and, admittedly, a bit bizarre.

_When will lessons begin, and what exactly will you do with her during?_

His imagination suggested activities involving a certain kind of fruit juice, to which Severus responded with a furious, albeit internal, growl. Stop that!

"Some night this week, if it is convenient," he replied, looking at Sabine questioningly. "As I am also practiced in Legilimency, I had hoped Sabine would permit me to 'attack' her mind, as it were, so that she may learn to recognize the sensation and to exercise the proper procedure under such an invasion."

"I've said before, any time you want," Sabine said warmly, nodding at Severus. "Regarding having my mind attacked.. I think it's big enough to stand up for itself," she allowed a small snicker as she sipped her wine. "Absolutely. Whatever would be most effective."

Tarla let out a spiteful sound, which made Abigail eye her sharply. She didn't continue, however, only indulged in a long sample of her own wine. To be completely honest, she wasn't entirely sure about trusting the man before her, and was a bit surprised that Sabine would so easily comply to his wishes.

Tarla's distrust was almost tangible to the Master even without his Legilimency.

If you didn't want to be judged, then you shouldn't have followed a megalomaniac in your youth. He told himself. Then again, perhaps big sister just doesn't want Sabine playing with a boy. He hid his sneer. I'm not that stupidly male.

Yes, you are. Another part of him commented.

You be quiet.

"Your confidence in me is moving, Sabine." He drawled. "I can only hope that your friends will follow your example."

"I trust you," Sabine replied simply, giving Severus a smile. "Frankly, I have similar hopes."

Sabine's hazel eyes met Tarla's cold grey ones, and the latter held the gaze without emotion until the former looked away. Then, her hand tensing around her wine glass, Tarla set her jaw and stated boldly: "Sabine's choices, I have found, have not always been wise in the past." To whom the frigidness in her voice was directed to was uncertain, and it seemed to make the other two women slightly nervous.

"Severus," Sabine said with an eerie calmness, now meeting and holding Tarla's gaze, "I am tired, and think that we should take our leave."

"I agree," Tarla replied softly.

Abby bounded up from the piano bench so suddenly that one of the photographs on the wall jumped, and helped Sabine to her feet. "May I see the both of you to the door?"

Severus said nothing throughout the nonverbal exchange between the two women, but when Sabine suggested their departure he rose to his feet. Struck by the sensation of being alarmingly tall in comparison to Abby, who stood near them, he bowed graciously.

"Good evening, Ms. Prestan." He said coolly, and with a warmer nod allowed Abby to escort him to the entrance hall of the Black family manor.

Abigail guided them swiftly from the room, while Tarla eyed them silently until they were out of ear- and eyeshot. Only then did she heave a sigh, tilting her head down and covering one half of her face with a slender hand.

Miss Brooke was quick to show them to the foyer and there exchanged a brief kiss with Sabine, each rapidly brushed her lips against the other's cheek before Abby ushered the happy couple out the door. "Professor, I'm really very sorry," she whispered, her eyes flitting briefly from him and to the curtained portrait. "She's a good woman." With that, the door was shut.

Sabine sighed, turning from the house and descending heavily from the doorstep. "That went well," she breathed resignedly. "She really is, Severus. A good woman. She's just..set in her ways. She used to be much better, until the pride went to her head."

Seeing Sabine's distress, Severus rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, a wisp of dark hair that had fallen from the bun she wore brushing against his skin.

"Relax," he told her quietly, echoing her earlier words and gestures. "She is wary of me and protective of you, nothing more. Were I in her place, I would consider suspicion entirely justified. In any case, I like her..." He smiled, laughter in his eyes. "She keeps me on my feet, as it were."

Miss Trefethen opened her mouth for a moment, in response that quickly changed to amazement (thus meriting no change of expression), and then closed it again to give a bright smile. Resting her hand on Severus' shoulder, she stepped closer to him and rested her forehead against his robes, quivering in repressed laughter, and turned from him to evacuate the yard of the unkempt house.

"What a funny manner of man you are. This makes me very happy, Severus, I hope you know."

Feeling his pulse quicken as she stood closer to him, Severus could, nonetheless, not help but chuckle.

"I do now." He replied, the laughter still in his voice, following his companion with careful, catlike steps in the dark of the treacherous yard. "It is a very good thing, you being pleased... I don't think I could deal with you in a black mood, my darling wife. Now," he added, glancing up at the moon. "Shall we return to the castle?"

"Yes," she replied decisively, keeping beside him as they ventured off. "I find that these visits are often quite tiring."


	21. No Books Were Harmed

Frowning, Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache... They had been poring over arcane manuscripts in the library for hours, looking for any clue, and in the fading light it wasn't getting any easier.

Sabine must have heard his sigh, because she looked up at him questioningly.

Severus studied her. "I'm telling you now, don't laugh." He warned, before reaching into his robes and withdrawing a pair of glasses. The lenses were vaguely rectangular, with thin, black metal rims. He glanced around, ensuring that the area was free of students before slipping them on - they lent him a distinctly scholarly appearance. Returning to the manuscript, he emitted a soft sigh of relief and resignation as the ornate script grew clearer.

"I am, apparently," he grumbled, "Getting too old for this."

Why was he sighing? Sabine gave him a questioning look, all right, but with the annoyance building beneath the calm façade the question there was most likely to be along the lines of, _Do you need to be hit?_

Nevertheless, she nodded compliantly at the warning, albeit a bit quickly- she hadn't quite expected to see Severus bespectacle himself. It was admittedly as charming as it was amusing- thus making the situation more amusing in its irony. Having a deep appreciation for knowledge herself, Sabine was drawn to anything that associated her comrade with the trait on a level that was more subconscious than conscious.

"They're very... becoming."

Sabine propped an elbow on the table and mashed those knuckles to her lips before shifting her eyes back to the tome she was scanning.

Severus glanced at her before returning his attention to the book. He really wished she would not distract him so... The irritation that he had been harboring against the library and the written word in general began to spread insidiously into a different part of his mind... the part that had stubbornly declared itself permanently occupied by Sabine. It was like having someone else's house built on his grounds, and while Severus wished to insist that he did not like it one bit, the other half of his mind replied (rather obstinately, in his opinion) that he did.

He glanced at the stack of books beside Sabine's elbow on her side of the table, and noted that hers was two or three volumes shorter than his. Ordinarily this would not have bothered him in the slightest, but as he was currently battling the distraction caused by a lock of her black hair pulling loose from its bonds (Am not!), the barest of scowls passed over his features.

_Be fair!_ His inner voice warned him. _You've been running her ragged, she's not used to this. In any case, she reads things more thoroughly than you do, and you know it._

_She asked for it._

_No,_ the voice corrected. _You did._

Severus narrowed his eyes. The fact that an actual part of himself was arguing against him was the final stroke.

"Perhaps," he said silkily, interrupting Sabine's reading, "The lady has had quite enough for tonight, and wishes to retire to her comfortable chambers to rest her tired eyes."

The polite half of his mind that cared about this woman's feelings groaned at the sarcasm in his voice and retreated into a dark corner, hiding from the wrath that was almost certain to be forthcoming.

Both black brows twitched involuntarily, and Sabine raised her eyes once more from her books to regard Severus unimpassionedly for a long moment, as if deciding how to respond.

On one hand, she was disgruntled- she had done nothing to merit that remark, and damned if she hadn't been helping him all day. Otherwise, there was a part of her that wished to keep the peace without being run flat- in the end, as per usual, passion won over practicality when the two were evenly matched.

"My chambers are indeed comfortable," she agreed in a fairly pleasant, and equally level tone. Then, the temperature of her words dropped several degrees as she finished in a spectacularly icy way, "I find that they are constantly a source of refreshment to tired ears and sore eyes."

_That was a little harsh, dear,_ her conscience chided her gently. She disregarded it.

"Then, by all means," Severus hissed, the book open before him holding absolutely no interest. "Perhaps you should retire early. I understand that in America the workload is quite a bit lighter than it is here, so understandably you must be exhausted, never mind social graces."

His body had tensed as if he was about to rise to his feet, and at the still even level of their tones, Madam Pince looked over in irritated concern.

Sabine closed her book slowly, with a definitive air, and placed her hands on top of it. Her original intention had been to display her lack of concern for the situation, but she found her fingers curling involuntarily and temperamentally over the spine as she spoke.

"Indeed. Of course, in that light, you are the embodiment of social grace, Professor. The very picture of a British gentleman in all of his glory, I suppose? I know exactly how amiable you are in the worst of times."  
Severus, as opposed to leaning forward in aggression, leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in a gesture of false nonchalance, and stared at her. "I don't know, I thought I held it together fairly well under the onslaught of your guard dogs." He snapped. "But then again, I have never heard of this rare breed known as the 'American lady,' perhaps you could enlighten me."

He stood abruptly, shelving the books at random onto a library cart, his hands oddly gentle with the tomes, despite his apparently unprovoked anger. Old habits die hard. Still, at the jumbled state and complete lack of organization, Madam Pince began her deliberate but entirely unnoticed journey toward the rescue of her abused volumes.

On the other hand, Sabine left her books exactly where they were, and bit her tongue in anger as she listened to the point that Severus brought to the table. When he stood, she promptly followed, missing the match of his height as usual by only four or five inches. She seemed to be losing some of her composure, her face pulled into a ferocious frown as she gripped the edge of the table firmly.

"I wouldn't refer to my friends as guard dogs, Severus, but I'm sure that I must forgive you for being inexperienced in the treatment of people who might actually like you. Obviously," she added in a haughty undertone. "You may leave them out of this, however. As for your observations on the American lady, I can only imagine what would happen to you if you were to express your views before one of them. You were fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of the pick of the litter, _as it were_," she seethed.

I must forgive you for being inexperienced in the treatment of people who might actually like you.

"This coming from the social butterfly?" He snapped. "One wonders why you ever left America."

_You were fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of the pick of the litter, as it were..._

Severus eyed her, allowing his gaze to wander up and down. It was a long journey - the woman was bloody tall. After a moment's consideration he scowled, decided that he had nothing to say in response to this and replied simply, in a tone dripping with sarcasm, "Indeed."

Sabine clenched her teeth, her lips quivering somewhat as she waited for Severus to finish with his assessment of her- God damn it, she felt like a piece of meat. What was worse, she allowed herself to feel that way even in the knowledge that it was probably Snape's intention.

Then, there was something about the way that he responded- the utter callousness of his manner, the critical mockery in his tone, the hint of a sneer pulling at his hawkish nose. It threatened to break her, and that bothered her.

"_Yes_," she hissed aggressively, looking to meet his gaze. If she couldn't permeate the barrier, she would stare him down.

Stare him down, would she? Severus could barely control the contemptuous sneer that threatened to become prominent upon his features; as it was, the expression was still present. He met her glare coldly, without real effort...

She obviously had not been at Hogwarts long enough, to challenge Severus Snape to a staring contest. Honestly.

_That particular shade of hazel looks very intriguing when she's angry..._ He mused, and blinked. Damn it. Bloody woman. Damn it all to hell...

He snapped out a scathing remark in prerequisite response to whatever triumph would be forthcoming from his opponent. "When you've finished thinking about it, have you got something to say, or are we done here?" The last three words were ground out with great effort to keep his tone even, his dark eyes somewhat darker in anger. Somehow he'd let her get the better of him, and he was bewildered, having no idea how it had happened. _You silly ass..._

Although she hated to admit it, Sabine felt a joyless satisfaction at having succeeded in the face-off, although she didn't understand exactly how rare such an occurrence was.

She promptly reached up, violently tucking the tendril of hair that had fallen from its binds back into place and raising her eyebrows jerkily. In all fairness she wanted to walk away, but her heart was beating in her ears and drowning out any protests from the voice of reason.

The man was exasperating, and damned if he hadn't just implied that she had nothing to say. Well, if that was his chosen game, she would give him an earful and see how he responded to someone who truly knew what she was talking about.

"In fact, I would like to know what flared your infamous temper, sir. Good God, I can't imagine what could have inspired such harsh words. Did an insect fly up your nose? That's certainly nothing to snivel about; there's plenty of room. Or perhaps you simply tire of such a contemptible companion? Nothing keeps me from collecting these books and removing myself to my apartments, Professor, you need only say the word and spare me the trial of having to listen to your irrationalities."

Severus watched Sabine tuck the lock of hair back into its proper place with unnecessary violence, and remained still as a roused cobra while taking her retort, the only signs of his rage in the barest flush of his features, the dangerous narrowing of his eyes... His hand tightened very hard on the handle of the book cart as she used a choice verb that reminded him vividly of his school days... God, he wanted nothing more than to put her over his knee and beat her.

_In fact, I would like to know what flared your infamous temper, sir._

_Would you?_ his mind hissed angrily. _Oh, I doubt it, very much... That angry flush you're wearing would be for quite a different reason, I am certain... Damn it all!_ The hiss turned to an angry growl, which was voiced aloud.

"You require a signal? Perhaps a written invitation?" He extended a hand, which was trembling slightly in fury, toward the door. His other was then clenched at his side, and he hissed 'the word' in a soft, lethal tone. "Go."

For a split second, Sabine wanted to sigh- she did not, however, for the shock that came with her dismissal.

Damned if he hadn't dismissed her!

So, then, in a flurry of scorned dignity and temper, Sabine gathered the book she had been reading, tucked it under her arm and gave Snape what she thought was her most impressive scowl (unsurprisingly unsatisfying) before turning on her heel and removing herself with all haste from the library, her beloved huff encircling her like the suffocating hug of an old friend.

Severus slumped slightly, his tense spine relaxing before abruptly straightening again. The sound of a heel clicked on the floor behind him and he spun, narrowing his eyes in a glare so lethal that even the infamously severe librarian quailed.

"If you please, Madam," he hissed viciously, "Your books are perfectly fine." With that he turned on his heel and stalked out of the library, his black robes rustling with the sudden violence of his movements.


	22. A Painfully Masculine Solution

Slamming the door to his chambers - not to impress anyone in particular, but simply because it made him feel better - Severus leaned against it, flushed with anger.

As his pulse slowed to a normal rate, he strode over to his cherrywood liquor cabinet with purpose…

He was going to get sloshed. Extravagantly sloshed. Potions Master he might well be, but tonight called for a more primitive cure.

He poured a very generous amount of brandy into a glass and dropped into a chair, staring broodingly into the fire as he fell to the task at hand with enthusiasm. The brandy was rich and warm, and as he stood to refill the glass he pulled off his robes and cast them aside, unfastening the first few buttons on his shirt.

What was he going to do with her? His father's solution for a headstrong woman was to shag her within an inch of her life… Not only did Severus desire to stay as far from his father's practices as possible, he somehow doubted that that remedy would work on Sabine. He sneered - It wasn't as if he could try, could he? After meditation on the subsequent mental image for a long moment, he was reduced to a fit of laughter… He didn't stand an icicle's chance in hell. Sabine, especially in her current mood, would likely castrate him and display his bits and pieces in a jar on her classroom shelf.

Ruminating on this possible turn of events as he filled the glass again, Severus thought dimly that he should perhaps stay away from Rosmerta's brandy… It was quite potent, and invited unwelcome, sometimes exceedingly unpleasant images into his mind. Shrugging, he took the bottle back to his chair - it wouldn't do to fall over while on his way to the cabinet.

He disregarded his own warning and gradually downed another glass.

"I'm an ass." He commented decisively to no one in particular, his smooth voice somewhat slurred at the "s" sound. Upon that profound declaration, Severus got carefully to his feet and wandered through the halls - they were wonderfully empty at that unholy hour - and found his way to Sabine's door. Knocking in an absent manner, he abstractedly studied the grain of the wood a few inches from his nose.

The door inched open, and a tentative hazel eye appeared between door and doorframe. Said eye rotated in its socket, looking the tall man up and down before Sabine opened the entry enough to let Severus observe one half of her face, the other half still hidden behind the door. It was a trick unconsciously learnt from Sabine's mother- if you were angry with a man, the implication that he didn't deserve to look at you would usually be enough to pose a threat.

In all honesty, Sabine hadn't expected to be approached so quickly. She had decided to take the supremely satisfying tactic of sulking and kicking things, and so, after having left the library, she had stalked the hallways, refused to apologize when she tilted a painting with a carelessly-placed elbow, purposely employed a boot to upset an empty cauldron left by an equally careless student and placed herself in a chair beside her unlit fireplace to fume.

Now she was occupied with the view of her friend, and the scent of brandy as it reached her nose. "You're drunk," she pointed out accusingly, adding only as an afterthought: "You bastard."

"No." Severus declared vehemently; then, after several moments of careful thought, amended the statement. "Slightly intoxicated. Four glasses of brandy…" He made an exaggerated gesture with his hands, indicating the size of the apparently foot-tall glass.

"I believe," he said slowly, contemplating a spot on the worn stone floor as he cast his gaze down. What had he been saying? Oh, yes. He began again. "I believe I owe you an apology."

Sabine stood at the door, allowing herself to gape openly in disbelief. Severus Snape had just made her feel like an idiot, dismissed her from his presence like an animal, and generally made her strain her throat, only to return under the influence of alcohol and expect her to hear a drunken plea for forgiveness! Certainly not. Sabine would not hold with such nonsense. After all, she was -sort of, kind of, technically- a lady, and the least she could expect -as a lady- was a proper, sober apology from her husband!

Er. Companion. To whom she incidentally had no actual legal binding whatsoever.

Or attraction. Because Severus Snape was not in any way, shape or form attractive, even when she did find herself most verily delighting in his conversation and wit.

But yes. Sober apology.

Right? Right!

So it came to pass that Sabine stood there in the partially unobstructed doorframe, her face flushed unpleasantly and her form stiff; her lips tensing several times in succession. When finally she did speak, the words emerged in a strange sort of choked hiss, which seemed to serve as a sort of dam for a good deal of anger.

"_Yes, you do._" With that, the door was promptly shut in Severus' face.

Severus blinked slowly, his brain taking quite a long time to comprehend what, exactly, had happened. This slowness displeased him, in a vague sort of way, and when he ran over the previous moment's events, he swore.

"That did not go well..." He muttered, and stalked off back to his chambers to topple, grumbling, into bed.


	23. The Morning After

The following morning, the Master found himself with his face pressed rather uncomfortably to the pillow, the black linen very warm and blocking all vision. 

His head hurt like hell.

"Oh, bugger all..." He growled, and rose gingerly, stomping off to splash cold water into his face. Fortunately, Severus had never been the sort to wake up and vomit after the consumption of far too much alcohol.

After a series of muttered - but heartfelt - "damn it's," he wandered about for a moment before locating the bottle he sought among his shelves. Opening the phial and downing it, he felt much better, and was able to complete his morning ritual with a minimum of distracted inefficiency.

Rearranging a comb atop his wardrobe for no apparent purpose, he braced his fist against the wall and growled at himself. "You stupid ass. Abysmal ass. Incomprehensible ass." After several more rounds of verbal abuse directed at himself, he resigned himself to the obvious next move in the fiasco he'd created and prowled off through the corridors to Sabine's quarters. Or, rather, the hall outside them. He knew she'd still be inside... Hung over or not, Severus was still an obscenely early riser.

He sank onto the floor, his knees drawn up and hands hung casually over them, and studied the wall while waiting for the woman to emerge. He had a lot of explaining to do.

Trefethen rose at her usual time, having slept dreamlessly in her bed for the first time in a few nights- the weather was finally cooling to her pleasure, and after having a strict word with the house-elf that tended her chambers she had managed to avoid the inconvenience of a heating pad from there forward.

She dressed herself slowly as her bed pulled its covers and sheets straight, the three pillows arranging themselves in accordance to her preference while Sabine donned a set of simple dark purple robes with a black belt and scarf, then fastened her hair into its usual bun.

That was when the realization hit her: _she possessed no coffee._ "Shit!" she announced to the picture of her cousin on the vanity table next to her, the brunette in the framed photograph looking only mildly offended at the expletive. Unfortunately, this meant that her feud with the Potions Master would have to be as short as possible. Sighing resignedly, Sabine rose and strode to her door, passing through it and stepping past the gorgon-nymph...

...to almost trip over Snape. "Good God!" she choked, annoyed at the obstacle blocking her way. "How long have you been there?"

Severus gave the barest of shrugs. "Approximately, half an hour, though if you desire a more accurate answer I'm sure that portrait over there could give you the exact time down to the second... She's been glaring at me since I got here, apparently thinks I am up to no good." He looked up at his colleague, noticing for the first time the intriguing deep purple hue of her robes. "I must warn you, Sabine, that if you say no I intend to dog you around the school for the remainder of the day, however..." He drew a breath. "May I speak with you?"

"No."

The word was sharp and callous, followed by the stubborn setting of Sabine's chin as she stepped awkwardly past him. The time taken in that movement, however, allowed her to reconsider… she could not very well have him interrupting her all day. Far more important was the coffee matter (or rather, lackthereof). So, with a sigh, she sank to her knees beside him and folded her hands in her lap.

"I'm listening; go on…"

He sighed and looked down, studying his hands, then glanced at her, then at the painting, then back at her, meeting her eyes. It seemed he could not decide where to direct his gaze as he was formulating a reply.

"I am sorry." He said softly, and the sincerity in his voice was such as he had not heard from himself in quite some time, save perhaps to the Headmaster. "I had no reason to criticize you, none at all. I would not have you change, Sabine..." He quirked a slight smile, "And I actually do like your friends. Though, admittedly, Miss Prestan slightly less than Ms. Brooke. I am not a nice man, as I'm sure you have discovered, but I have no excuses. I am very sorry."

Suddenly Sabine felt quite uncomfortable, and gave a discomfited shrug of her shoulders at the apology, as though to wave away the situation. "We both said things; I believe at one point I made a comment or two that was rather below the belt. I'm sorry, too, for any trouble I might have caused you. Let's not dwell over apologies like schoolchildren." She flicked her eyes to the ceiling and back, clearing her throat before furrowing her eyebrows.

"What did I do to upset you in the first place?"

Severus shook his head, caught between a chuckle and a sigh. "Absolutely nothing. I believe it might have had something to do with the books, but I honestly cannot remember. I just found you..." He trailed off, and looked at her again. "Infuriating."

_What were you going to say?_ He asked himself furiously.

"Would you like some coffee before classes?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Yes," Sabine sighed. Honestly, she looked more than a little bit disturbed at being described as 'infuriating'.

_So, then, he just randomly decides that you're irritating?_ her inner voice asked incredulously. Partly Sabine's disturbance was from her unwaivering belief that everything had a cause and effect, but there was another part that would really rather not have Severus think she was infuriating. There was really no reason for that line of thinking, which only served to annoy Sabine further.

"Infuriating indeed," she muttered under her breath.

Severus realized with dismay that he had blackened her mood again, and set his mind to rather frantic work trying to find a way to allay that disturbance. 

_So what can I say?_ He growled at himself. _Oh, you weren't actually doing anything wrong, I just couldn't keep myself from staring at you... Lock of hair against your neck, very distracting, you know, I'm sure you understand... Right, Severus!_

He settled on a vague half-truth. "Through no fault of your own, please understand." He emitted a soft chuckle. "I was just being an ass, and had the Dark Lord himself shown up at that moment, I believe I may have picked a fight with him, just to relieve the general irritation."

He stood and offered her a hand. "Coffee?"

"Yes," Sabine repeated, accepting the hand up and borrowing Severus' considerable strength to hoist herself into an upright position. "Very well, if you insist," she conceded reluctantly, leading the way down the stairs and looking back over her shoulder.

"I would have decided to seek you out eventually, you know. You must tell me where I can acquire my own supply of coffee, so I don't burden you with my dependency." _You weakling,_ she reprimanded herself. _Addictions are the first step to abhorrency. Just look at Tarla and her cigarettes and scotch and God knows what else._

She was very light, he mused (as he helped Sabine to her feet), for such a tall woman.

"I do insist." He replied.

_You must tell me where I can acquire my own supply of coffee, so I don't burden you with my dependency._

He passed her a sidelong glance as they descended the staircase. "And why would I do that," he purred softly, "When I have you at my beck and call for the mere price of a hot beverage?"

_On the line, there, you git._ He warned himself fiercely, and turned a corner in the corridor that led to the main dungeon staircase.

For a moment she went quiet, staving off a slight blush, although she didn't seem to mind the assertion terribly. "Nonsense, Severus. For such a dear friend, my attention can be bought for much less." She didn't press him again, however, to direct her to his elusive coffee shop.


	24. Friendly Warnings

Severus raised a brow, not looking at Sabine, but a slight smile crept across his features as he held the door to his office open for her. _Friend. Imagine that._

Putting the coffee on to brew, he grew more serious as he turned over plans in his mind. Perhaps... He halted and spoke out loud. "Perhaps it would be a good idea to begin your Occlumency lessons tonight."

Friend? Friend was such a flippant word to Sabine- she tossed it about in everyday language; her life was constantly filled with new friends, old friends, ex-friends. She paired it with sarcasm frequently. There were so many of them, really, though of varying levels of importance. It never once occurred to her that the word might bear much more weight to Severus than it did to Sabine.

Speaking of friends, Sabine sighed as the scent of coffee brewing filled the room. Although it was given to her now on a regular basis, it always seemed like years between the cups. "Indeed," she half-mumbled as she watched the pot in question heat. "I've been looking forward to it. It'll be nice to learn something again for a change..."

Coffeecoffeecoffeecoffeecoffee.

Pulling the pot from its resting place on the hotplate and pouring a full mug, he handed it to Sabine. His internal clock told him that they had roughly half an hour before classes, though he was certain that he was off by five minutes, give or take. Time enough... There was something important he wished to discuss.

"I must warn you," Severus commented, his expression sober as he filled his own mug. "It is a common practice among the Death Eaters to - how to phrase this? - share their wives. I will not allow it," he added quickly, "But you may be approached." He drew a breath. "You may also see… To gain favor in the Dark Lord's eyes, it is not unusual for a Death Eater to present his virgin daughter as …amusement… for his fellow servants." He said the word darkly, and his expression became one of revulsion. "I never would partake," he spat, "Even for the sake of proving my worth. But Lucius…" He glanced at her, and ended the sentence in a clipped manner, as if commenting on the weather to a stranger. "The man has a seemingly insatiable appetite for such things."

Sabine gagged hideously on her coffee, managing to choke down the scalding liquid before setting the cup aside and giving way to a minor coughing fit. The grotesque images that went along with this story were enough to turn her off from caffeine, if even momentarily.

When the spasm had ended, the expression on her face was a revolted sneer. "Disgusting rats," she muttered fiercely. "How in damnation can there possibly be so many men with those tastes?" She stared at the fireplace for a second and shook her head before returning her gaze to Severus. "Quite a crowd you chose, Snape," she decided sourly. "What else?"

Severus winced visibly, suddenly tense. After studying his coffee for a long moment, he slowly raised his eyes to hers in a pained gaze.

_Damn it, I do not need to be reminded!_

"I know, Sabine." He said quietly.

The sneer slid from Sabine's face, leaving instead a gloriously guilty frown. Immediately she rose from the chair upon which she had just seated herself, and calmly approached Severus' side. There she laid a gentle hand on his wrist, and shook her head. 

"Of course you do. It was horrible of me to say."

She was sorry, and yet there was a part of her that nagged the very question; she wanted to know why he had ever descended to such a pitiful crowd. Had he ever been malicious enough to pass for one of those atrocious creatures? It was none of her business, really.

_Bull. I should think you have a right to know._

But damned if I'll ever make him tell.

The wrist her touch lingered upon was his left, and his fingers tensed for the barest of moments, the movement imperceptible by anyone to whom the responsible muscles did not belong. But the gesture was comforting, and he remained very still.

...He could feel her question. There was a natural perceptiveness that the Legillimens could not turn off, and he could tell that she was wondering.

"I know what you're thinking." He said softly, raising his eyes to hers. "And I cannot give you that answer, not yet. I'm sorry."

And he really was.

Opening her mouth in protest, Sabine originally had every intention to deny having thought what she thought he thought she thought, but that idea was quickly abandoned. He knew.

She sighed resignedly and furrowed her eyebrows. "Why do I ever bother talking to you if you know what I'm thinking?" she complained, squeezing his wrist briefly before removing her hand. Well, she was going to remove her hand, but in actuality she didn't. It served a better purpose there than at her side anyway.

"I didn't plan to ask, you know."

He smiled slightly at her apparent exasperation. "I know. You've done nothing wrong. Now, finish your coffee and be off... Your students will no doubt wonder where you have been lingering for so long, if you are late." He gave her a look that mocked long-suffering. "Mine, on the other hand, could not care less."

Coffee?

Coffee!

Sabine returned diligently to her chair and retrieved her mug, topping off its contents with the help of the pot. "I will return your mug at noon," she promised, sweeping off towards the door and pausing before her exit. "I'm sure there're some that would miss you if you were gone," she said with a smile, exiting and pulling the door shut behind her.

Severus grunted in response to this, then thoughtfully finished his coffee, his eyes staring blankly at his wrist.

Setting aside the cup with grudging resignation, he rose and set off for his classroom... He had students to torment - that is, teach.

Meanwhile, Trefethen wandered off down the dungeon corridors, a thought striking her when she reached the top of the stairs and stopping her short.

_Whose class am I teaching today again?_


	25. Trials in Teaching

Severus absently tapped his quill on the desk, answering a student's question automatically, without returning from his daydream. "Pomegranate juice."

Alarmed cries called him forth to reality, and as his black eyes snapped up and swept over his classroom, he suppressed a groan. _You incomprehensible ass! You blithering half-wit!_ The voice in his head bellowed at him as he appeared at a student's side, helping the distraught girl keep the potion that spilled out of her melting cauldron from exploding. _You abysmal idiot!_

For the first time in his entire career, Severus Snape assured a student that a brewing accident was not her fault, and returned to his desk. As a young third year (who reminded him powerfully of Hermione Granger in her early days) approached his desk to turn in a paper, she stared at him.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" Severus growled.

"I... You must have known the pomegranate juice would do that."

"Your point?" He hissed, at a complete loss. _There's no chance of you snarking your way out of this one, old boy..._

"So why... Why did you tell Rachel to use it?"

He snarled at her. "Return to your seat, and thirty points from Gryffindor for your insolence."

As it was, Sabine had only two lessons to teach that day; both were third-year Charms, which was both a relief and a welcome return to her favourite subject. So it came to pass that Sabine sat upon Professor Flitwick's impossibly low desk, her legs crossed femininely before her and providing a surface upon which she could read a book of her choosing.

It was, in fact, a collection of the many different versions of a very specific Greek myth: namely, Persephone and the Pomegranate Seeds. The woman sighed as she read, fairly ignoring the collection of students chanting a simple incantation to make a teacup sing.

"Professor Snape as a cunning king of darkness. How terribly romantic," she snickered to herself. The entire front row went quiet, quickly followed by most of the second and third. At this Trefethen looked up in alarm to come face to face with a thirteen-year-old brunette boy with his teacup bouncing up and down on his head.

"W-who did you say was romantic?" asked Reginald Withers, his eyes wide. Looking past his shoulder, one could see that almost half the class wanted the answer to his same question.

"What— I— n-nobody. You're not making any sense, Withers. Stop disrupting the class. Five points from Ravenclaw," Sabine sputtered, seizing the teacup from his head and tapping it with her wand before giving it back to him.

He hastened back to his seat, and Sabine glowered at the rest of the class. "I would have less of your staring and more of your working. Aren't you students? Then study!" she barked, sending many a head jerking back down to their respective cups.

Almost without thinking, Sabine lowered her head and raised her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. _Perhaps Severus' migraines are contagious._


	26. A Hard Lesson

Severus toyed with his wand, balancing it on one of his long fingers as he waited for Sabine to arrive. She wasn't late, he was merely early, and could not be sure whether or not he appreciated the time to think.

Occlumency lessons with Potter had been... _An experience I should not like to repeat._ His inner voice said delicately. Breaking into the boy's mind had carried with it a morbid sense of satisfaction, until he got to that first memory, the flash of green light... Severus suddenly felt sick, remembering how the Potters' deaths had looked through the eyes of their infant son, and his left arm tensed. He was none too fond of James Potter or his son, but in truth, no one deserved that. _Except, maybe me._

And when the insolent Potter had dared to break into his memories... He suppressed a shudder and the angry snarl that built inside his chest, yearning to get out and throttle the nearest living thing into senseless oblivion. It had been some time since he had been that angry.

What would it be like with Sabine? Fractionally more comfortable, though he did not like the idea of breaking into her locked vaults any more than he liked the idea of her seeing into his. If she proved to possess any talent, which he knew well she likely would... He blinked, and suddenly felt very cold. A sudden heat replaced the chill, however, and he flushed slightly, hoping against hope that she would prove less talented at Legillimency than he was at Occlumency. If only there was a feasible way to teach one subject without the other... There was no way he was ever going to live down the image of those dreams, if ever they were discovered.

He checked his pocketwatch, returning his wand to its proper place. Now she was late, but only by a moment, and he was unconcerned. Probably held up by some curious student or mischievous poltergeist.

Occlumency lessons were tonight, weren't they?

The thought didn't occur to Sabine until a good five minutes after the set starting date for said lessons, when she jumped up from her chair and threw her books to the ground in disgust at herself.

"Damn me and my lack of punctuality!" she muttered as she threw her robes on haphazardly over her sweater and skirts, rushing out of her door and leaving the gorgon-nymph to replace itself.

Puffing quietly as she fled down the spiral steps, down the hallway and then down more steps to the dungeon, Sabine paused only for a moment to catch her breath and pull two fourth-years from a badly locked broom closet before continuing on her run.

"I'm sorry!" she announced wildly as she finally burst into Severus' office. "I didn'tmeantobelateI was just caught up in… something." This was shortly followed by a deep breath and an apologetic glance. Sabine had never been strong enough to run that distance at that speed without some repercussions, and her age didn't help matters. So, although her lips remained tightly closed as she attempted to keep herself upright, her chest heaved in protest.

It altogether was not particularly attractive, but at least comical.

Severus raised a brow, caught between amusement, surprise and some other, random emotion that he could not quite place. "You did not have to rush." He commented finally, with the barest of smirks. "Though with any other student, there would be repercussions, so perhaps I should give you detention."

_Shut up!_ He hissed at himself. _Shut up, shut up, shut up... Stop that!_

He stood and waved a hand, inviting her in, as it were, though she was in fact already in. "You may shut the door." He said quietly, in an amused tone, and he withdrew a book from his shelves, opening it to a specific page with his long fingers and handing it over to her.

"You will find that this is a very comprehensive and condensed, but adequate, description of the theory behind Occlumency. When you have finished reading, we may begin."

"Oh, yes, I did. Tardiness is something I don't tolerate in my students; it's shameful for me to practice it myself."

_"...Perhaps I should give you detention."_

"Um." Sabine blinked. Detention? From Severus? Her mind raced. She scolded herself. Then she shut the door.

Having the upper hand in her inner battle for the time being, Sabine came forward to accept the parchment eagerly. That done, she sat on the arm of her usual chair and crossed her ankles, tucking the strands of freshly loosened hair (from her rush) behind her ear to better see the page. Rotten hairpins.

Severus smirked slightly, oddly pleased with himself at her response to his comment. _You are going to get burned._ He sighed inwardly, and resolved for the thousandth time to stop playing with fire.

His dark eyes followed her hand as it brushed the fallen locks back into their proper place, and then he directed his gaze elsewhere very sternly, a slight frown crossing his features as he rose and took out his wand, leaning against the mantle to wait.

It only took Sabine a minute or two- she skipped over several paragraphs which essentially showed her what she already knew. "There's a good deal more here than in some of the books I've read," she stated finally, resisting the urge to examine the index of the book before she closed it carefully and went to the shelf to replace it. Whilst there, however, her fingers skimmed over the spines of the books next to it, and she peered at the titles- most of the volumes were old, and some were positively ancient. There were a few written in Latin which she knew did not have English counterparts.

The horrible man. It had never occurred to him that she might like to examine these tomes herself! _Why would it?_ She argued with herself. _He barely likes you. What would possess him to let you run your grubby fingers over the pages in his personal library?_ It was an excellent point. Sabine sighed, and tore her eyes away from the shelf to regard Snape. _He must be growing very impatient by now._

"Shall we begin?"

Severus watched her examination of his shelves, bemused, and slowly an emotion that he knew was not his own surfaced in his mind.

The woman was lusting after his books, he thought with a slight smirk.

"My library intrigues you." He said. It was not a question. "It is at your disposal, whenever you wish. Be warned, however, that any damage to those volumes will be met with equal violence toward your person. I shall have to punish you most severely."

_Shut the hell up. Just shut the bloody hell up._

"Yes, we shall." He commented, finally answering her question, and his demeanor changed slightly, shifting into "Professor" mode. "Difficult as this may be for so full a mind, attempt to empty it." He said, deliberately keeping his voice even. Teaching Occlumency properly involved something of the hypnotic, for even a sharp tone of voice or sudden gesture can bring the mind to alertness once again.

"You must allow no cohesive thoughts to drift across that emptiness, remain blank. If you are struggling, then focus on something entirely mundane, only that, and ignore everything else."

Her pale cheeks burned at the accusation, but she was mollified entirely by the words that followed it. Sabine had every intention of thanking him, and had opened her mouth to do it when she was silenced by the warning. If anything, it made the blush brighter.

It was best to stay quiet, she thought, and listen to the instructions carefully. Clearing her mind seemed simple enough, and so she dropped her arms and closed her eyes, attempting to force any thoughts from her mind. It was exceedingly difficult.

The fact that her mind first reverted to penguins bothered her, which in turn caused more thoughts to break through the barrier and flood her mind again. She reattempted, and failed again.

It was rather like waking up in the midst of night with a muscle spasm in one's leg. It was easy enough to 'relax' the pain away, but any slight movement or tension at all could cause the entire limb to tighten again into excruciating agony. Mundane, he had said.

_I...am a vegetable._

What kind of vegetable?

STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.

Finally, after what seemed to Sabine quite an infuriating amount of time, she was able to achieve blissful mental silence.

Severus watched the bare signs of her internal struggle flicker across Sabine's face, mildly curious. After several minutes, during which he remained completely silent and still - the better to assist her - he raised his wand slightly and probed gently at her mind.

And received, in reward for his efforts... A mental picture of an eggplant.

His snort of laughter broke the silence and her concentration, he knew, but he could not hold it in.

**_Irritation!_**

Both hazel eyes flew open and Sabine glowered at her teacher. Just as she had managed to attain her goal, as well. Wretched man. "You're not _helping_," she announced in dismay. "Now, shut up for a moment so I can get this right."

Again she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. It took less time on the second turn, but it was still a significant length before she could settle into the intellectual void once more.

Severus gave her closed eyes an apologetic look, and resumed his watching. She was getting better, he noted. It took her less time to come up with the eggplant.

Raising his wand a little more, he probed deeper, the tendrils of his thought still gentle, insidious... Suddenly the eggplant gave way to more conscious thought, and he resisted the compulsion to back out. It would do her more harm than good.

With a final push, he forced away the fog that blocked him from a recent memory - less damaging then an old one, he usually found - and observed. Though the voices were muted, a rather flustered-looking Sabine looked up sharply from her book at a student with a dancing teacup atop his head; then, looking dismayed and irritated at the student, removed the cup from his head and sent him back to his seat.

Severus called his own thoughts back and looked at Sabine as he opened his eyes. "Did you have an altercation with a student today?"

Sabine found herself faced with a memory that still plagued her from that morning. Again she blushed, though with stale embarrassment this time. Anyway, he wasn't supposed to see that.

_You're not welcome there, go away..._

However, when one is experiencing an attack on their mind, it's difficult to think of a psychological alternative to pushing the attacker away. Unprepared, Sabine watched the memory play helplessly until Severus was kind enough to withdraw. "In fact I did," she replied curtly. She wasn't going to say anything more, but curiosity begged her to ask: "Ah...did you see only what I did?"

Severus nodded. "But I could have seen more, if I wanted to." His words carried a tone of warning. "You wanted me out. I felt that. You have the willpower, Sabine, what you lack is the technique."

He straightened, his posture suddenly not so lax as an expression of concentration took its place. "I am going to try again, and this time I shall not be so gentle. When you feel the foreign presence in your mind, envision something that can block it - a wall, a secure safe, anything that can keep your thoughts private. This is a beginner's tactic... in time, you shall learn to keep your thoughts blank. You must - if the Dark Lord were to enter your mind and be met with an eggplant or a locked door, His suspicions would be, needless to say, roused."

Concentrating as his pupil closed her eyes, he sent searching thoughts into her mind and probed about, searching for something, anything, that she did not want him to see. It would have to be a memory of that sort - the only kind she would have an incentive to block.

As she closed her eyes, Sabine etched his advice into her memory.

Fortunately (or unfortunately?), Sabine had few terrible memories to choose from, and her mind was arranged in such an abstract way that to sift through them was much like rummaging through a used book cart at a library sale. There really was no rhyme or reason.

Most prominent and vivid were the memories she felt strongly about: her celebrating Tarla's election as Magical Representative, the debutante ball that she attended the summer after the coming-of-age of one of her cousins' daughters, all the way back to her own coming of age. It was a while before the arrival of a memory mortifying enough to merit defense.

During the 1970's at Regalus, it was common practice on a girls' sweet sixteenth birthday for her less affectionate dorm mates to effectively attack her, strip her down to her nightgown, brutally shave of the middle part of her left eyebrow and toss her ceremoniously into the koi pond in the school's courtyard. So, in New York's freezing November air, Severus had every opportunity to witness that charming tradition as performed upon Sabine- had she not been very determined to stop him.

In her panic, she was unable to effectively conjure up a suitable imagine to stop him, and opted for what she felt was the next best thing: with some effort (more taxing than it seemed at first, in fact) she managed to replace to offending recollection with much less harmful image of a young Libby Night putting a small frog in her dinner soup as a prank, and the chaos that ensued.

Severus blinked, his concentration almost broken by this new turn of events. She had... substituted a memory. He hadn't told her to do that... It could be done, certainly, but was a trick most often practiced by an advanced Occlumens; to make the guarded mind seem more realistic. Sabine had skipped ahead through roughly three lessons.

He would never tell her, of course, but it quite impressed him.

He was not put off, however. Focusing his efforts on the replaced memory, he brushed aside the decoy and pressed further into her thoughts, searching for the memory that she had hidden from him. It was oddly satisfying, using his talent against a mind that was actually strong enough to resist.

Eyes still closed, Sabine's breathing had deepened from the exertion of defending her mind. Nimble as it was, it was not quite quick enough to escape the much more skilled of the two, and to be completely frank, the woman was growing tired.

In all fairness, she put up quite a struggle- she quickly discovered that the more she liked or disliked a memory, the easier it was to use that image to distract Severus as he searched her mind. If she had been stronger, she could have presented him with quite the display of her favorite moments, usually recent ones, as again they were less draining.

She wasn't as strong as she would like to think, however, and the longer she tried to 'trick' Snape away from the memory she was guarding, the more exhausted she felt. Her motivation soon enough began to dwindle, the mental pictures showing less vividly and fading much more quickly.

Severus was momentarily distracted from his goal, following the memories she tossed in his path to their ultimately fruitless end. He could feel that she was tiring, and the brief flicker of sympathy died under his determination to do the job and do it properly. He aimed his concentration on the - she would have him believe - blankness behind all those decoy memories, and murmured the spell.

_"Legillimens!"_

Had Sabine thought she had the energy, she would have been supremely annoyed.

Again the 'Sweet Sixteenth' ritual, among a small flurry of other betraying memories, were pulled to the front of her mind. It was war: Sabine's distressed yet determined mind against Severus', which was equally sharp and blatantly much more skilled. He didn't seem to require any energy for this at all, and that threatened her. Another rather strong emotion allowed still more unwelcome memories to float to the surface.

_Go away... back..._ This only began a chain of rather random proclamations to the negative as Sabine attempted feebly to clear her mind. At most, she managed to force back the memories that she was most desperate to hide, but she wasn't terribly effective despite her resolve.

So deep was his consciousness inside her mind, Severus actually heard her words: _Go away... back..._

_No._ He replied, rather brutally, and increased the speed of his search. Her distractions were irritating, and despite the fact that he knew it was what she was supposed to be doing, he resented the difficulty she was presenting. He employed a great deal of effort in forcing aside all her shrouds and bared that first memory for both to see, enhancing it to add insult to injury. It was as clear as if he had been standing there.

_Amusing._ He commented, and withdrew his thoughts.

"You put up quite a struggle." He commented lazily, pocketing his wand and examining her. "Would you like to call it an evening, or..." He paused, "Try it in reverse?"

Splash.

Sabine blanched. _I really do hate Elsebette Taylor;_ she thought when she had been freed of the mental grasp, naming the girl in charge of removing part of her eyebrow. Now she was an equally pretty woman and happily married, living on one of New York's famous Avenues, Sabine supposed.

Then she opened her eyes, and immediately had to grasp the desk she stood beside. She had been so lost in her memories, and the sudden reality that was inflicted upon her made her feel as though the decently sized office was suffocatingly small when immediately compared to the mental plane. It was also horridly decorated. What were those things pickling behind Snape's head?

_He's talking to you._

What?

"In reverse?" Sabine repeated, eyes snapping back to Severus. "You mean, as in..." She was apprehensive; perhaps she shouldn't pry into the man's memories if she didn't half to.

_Splash._

"I would _love_ to."

_Oh, shit._

The tone in her voice was pure predator, and despite his years of experience, Severus received the distinct feeling of foreboding that accompanied that tone. He was going to pay for his persistence.

"Alright." He said resignedly. "You've heard me use the incantation, I believe?" At her nod, he continued. "Instead of retreating into your mind; this time, send your mind outward - toward mine. Search for what is hidden."

He readied his own thoughts, throwing up the cold stone wall that hid his most private memories, and tossed a decoy memory - their first evening, incidentally, with the discourse on tea - in front of it for good measure.

Sabine made eye contact, removing her wand from her robe pocket and raising it warily. Suddenly she was struck with a hint of uncertainty, and she cleared her throat twice before finally getting out with the incantation:

"Legillimens."

It didn't work. Sabine sighed, took a deep breath, and relaxed. It was more difficult than a materialistic spell, certainly, but if she could just focus well enough...

"_Legillimens._"

Success. Sabine was able to view (with all too much satisfaction) a flicker of Snape's decoy memory. It faded all too quickly for her liking, though, not giving her the chance to search elsewhere. Mostly undaunted, she considered a third attempt.

Severus raised his brows slightly at Sabine's early success. Granted, she made no headway, but the mere fact that she had succeeded in only her second attempt to enter his mind was... impressive.

He guarded his walls once more as she prepared to try again.

Sabine made several more fruitless tries at the man's mind, although on the last two she was able to remain there for a markedly longer time than the first. It still wasn't enough to show Sabine any more than she already knew.

"Should I try a different approach?" she asked finally, feeling very much like a mildly retarded schoolchild.

Severus felt morbid satisfaction at throwing the woman out or his head, but knew that if he was to teach her properly, as was his responsibility, he would have to instruct her on how better to invade his mind.

"When an army attacks a fortress, does it march up to the gate, waving flags and banners?" He asked, and then answered his own question. "No. The drawbridge would be shut, the gates locked, and the attack would fail. Your mind is not strong enough to withstand a siege; you have not yet had enough practice... But mine is, at least from your efforts." The barest of smug sneers crossed his features. "Returning to the army... Failing to enter through a frontal attack, it is likely that a smaller, more delicate force would be sent around to a less-guarded entrance. Make your way through this tactic. Search carefully, use your cunning... Instead of aiming straight for the heart of what you seek - you are not yet skilled enough for that - employ delicacy. Move through the less important thoughts to bring your subject's guard down before heading for the memories hidden deepest."

His tone was even and commanding, every bit the professor who knew his subject well.

The woman narrowed her eyes slightly at the sneer, and set her jaw as she listened to the rest of the speech.

She had to admit that he made it sound painfully obvious, and she scolded herself (for what seemed like the umpteenth time) for not coming to that conclusion sooner. "One more for the evening, then?" she suggested, stepping back from the man and closing her eyes briefly before raising her wand again.

"_Legillimens,_" she murmured, meeting his gaze swiftly.

So it came to pass that Sabine found herself at the head of their mutual memory again, and she was pleased to discover that it did not fade on her this time. It was surprisingly simple to move that memory out of her path, rather like pushing aside a heavy paperweight or some other mild obstacle.

The real challenge, then, was the stark stone wall, which had posed her a challenge once before. Now, however, she had a new tactic to use in facing it.

...She was a swift learner.

Severus tossed another memory into her path, an inconsequential piece of classroom drivel, and backed up a step on the mental plane, trying to keep his guard on the wall... It was difficult. He had a lot to hide.

Suddenly, he felt a tendril of foreign thought probing at a weak space in his boundaries, the area that blocked his dreams. Snarling, he clamped down on it, slamming a locked door into its place.

_Not for you._ His inner voice insisted randomly. As if she didn't already know that.

For a moment, Sabine was certain she had a bite... but Severus seemed very determined to keep those particular concepts from her. She expected this sort of guard, and yet she was surprised when he bothered to specifically warn her away from them.

_Why not?_

Ah, her very weakness. Those two words would definitely give her intentions away (if Severus had not already guessed them), but there was no time to worry about that. She didn't know how long she could hold the spell, and Severus' volunteered vulnerability would only stretch so far. Instead she searched for, and found, another small rift in the plane, and with some luck would quickly find herself accessing a few of her teacher's least significant memories.

Frankly, anything was good enough for her.

_Why not?_

So many reasons... Severus noticed her battering at a rift that had occurred in his absence, and launched his consciousness toward it, but was a half-second too late. She doubtless had seen the flash of memory as clearly as he had...

The image of a tall man holding out a belt and pointing at a woman, a leer of sadistic pleasure and encouragement on his face. The man was not Severus. But for a few mismatched features, it could have been.

_Get out._ He growled, and pushed her away.

Gladly.

In her surprise at having found such an unexpected picture, Sabine broke the enchantment- she was not unhappy when she faded back into reality this time. Originally she was going to apologize, but upon discovering that she was temporarily incapable of sound settled for closing her mouth and waiting for her throat to stop moving as though she were speaking.

He had said that his father wasn't a kind man. Sabine didn't want to believe that the flash she had received had anything to do with Severus- but for such a reasonable woman not to believe such a thing was a hope that could be dismissed as idiocy.

Severus glared at her, his breathing slightly labored and his already pale features white and drawn. Shaking his head, he looked away and passed a hand over his face in an absent, agitated gesture.

He'd never intended for her to get that deep.

"Well done." He said finally, and his tone was taut. "Shall we have an end, then?"

"Yes," Sabine agreed finally, when her lips had stopped twitching in an attempt to form incoherent words. "I think we shall."

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, extending her hand. "Thank you, Severus. I look forward to our next lesson." Perhaps not the most tactful of farewells, but at least polite.

Severus nodded and waved her away, his tall frame stiff and cold. He inclined his head in mechanical courtesy, refusing to meet her eyes. "Yes... Good night."

He was very tired.

"Good night."

She dropped her hand with only a minor flash of indignity, and removed herself swiftly from the room, letting the door shut behind her. It had been a very trying night, and she must think of a way to make up for it.

On top of everything else, she realized, she had forgotten to bring back his goddamn coffee cup.


	27. Several Strange Plots

It was not a good idea to be in Snape's office, truly. But here she was, and it had only taken an hour or two of bribery and blackmail to wile herself into the room.

It really was a fascinating place- if a bit gruesome. The Potions Mistress at Regalus certainly never combined her stores with her office setting, but Sabine was in little position to judge.

On the desk in front of her was a piping hot pot of coffee, the magical device humming gently as steam poured from under the tall kettle. Again, it had taken her a good long time to find the coffee beans, though the operation of the tool was no trouble.

Sabine's original intent was to be quick, but this hope was crushed by the sad reality of her ignorance with regards to the navigation of Snape's office. Oh, the original plan had been so clever: she would return the coffee mug, freshly washed, and leave it ready for him to fill in front of his chair while the coffee brewed for him. The whole gesture was a not-so-subtle nod towards an apology for her inadvertent mistake the night before.

However, Sabine had also woken early to create some means to the end of this plan. It was that small flaw in her plot that caused her to notice how comfortable Severus' office chair looked, and then that possessed her to seat herself upon it- just for a few minutes, she told herself.

So now she was asleep at his desk.

Severus rose slowly from bed, his limbs oddly stiff. The nightmare was still fresh in his mind... No matter. He would have to grow accustomed to them, if he was to teach Sabine. And teach her he would - it would be murder to do otherwise. Still, perhaps he had better brew another batch of the dreamless sleep draught.

His thoughts drifted from the subject as another, more demanding concept entered his mind. _Coffee. I need coffee._ He could almost smell it...

Wandering over to the washbasin, he performed a mechanical but cleansing morning ritual, then pulled on a robe and entered his locked office.

Or, it had been locked. It apparently at some point had become unlocked, as Sabine was now asleep in his chair. He felt a bizarre twinge of annoyance at this - it altered the natural order of things. She had no business in his chair, especially at this hour.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He asked, his voice a sudden noise in the silent room as he addressed her sleeping form. Only then did he realize that the aroma of coffee was real.

Eh?

Sabine groaned, shifting in her sleep. After a second the question registered with her and her eyes snapped open, and she flicked them wildly about for a moment before they settled on Severus. God damn it all.

Embarrassment and annoyance burned her face, and she cleared her face nervously as she straightened in his chair. She would have to try to play it off as though she had prepared for this. 

"I am making you coffee." This she explained as though it should have been painfully obvious.

Severus stared at her for a long moment, considering this statement, and then smirked. "I have heard that women possess some amount of skill at multitasking. You, however, surpass them all."

He stalked over to the coffeepot and poured a fresh mug, taking a sip. He savored it for a moment, then nodded shortly in approval and poured another mug, setting it on the desk before Sabine. "Thank you."

He glanced at the door. "How, exactly, did you get in here? Or would it be better if I just did not ask?"

"Flatterer," Sabine said, making no move to leave the man's chair as she collected the mug of coffee offered to her. She was fairly sure that he was being sarcastic, but she may as well play along. It was a decent answer either way.

After finishing about half of her coffee with a great deal of passion, Sabine was feeling much more exuberant. It was then that Severus made his inquiry, and she bit her lip for a moment before answering. "Well, your Headmaster was surprisingly obliging. I think he was aware of my intentions... he seems to know everything. Once I was told what kind of charms guarded your office- well, I have taught the subject for the past several years."

Severus raised a brow at her. "You broke into my office? I believe there are several school rules about that, along with some sort of law..." He waved a hand. "No matter. Next time, however, if you desire coffee, you have my full permission to knock." His expression, however, told that he understood her purpose there.

"Albus is going to have a great deal of explaining to do..." He grumbled. "I am not accustomed to waking and finding a woman asleep in my office. A strange experience, to say the least."

He mused into his coffee for several moments. "What classes must you teach today?"

She looked really very embarrassed at that, and blushed at what was left of her coffee. "I'll keep that in mind, Severus. I'm sorry to have troubled you." In reality, Sabine was quite glad she did it. It was nice to be the one to surprise him for a change.

Mulling over the question for a moment, Sabine brought forth her mental timetable. "None...except for final period Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall mentioned she'd like to step out and get a new grip for her cane, and I supposed I'd make myself useful."

Severus considered this. He'd seen something while passing down the hall the day before, glancing out the window onto the grounds, and the thought had only just begun to congeal into a cohesive idea.

"Would you mind going down with me to the Gamekeeper's hut? I think it would be of some assistance to the search." He did not name what that search was for - there was no need.

Both hazel eyes lit up significantly- there was something of importance to be investigated today? Excellent. The woman gave a sharp bob of her head, and poured herself another half-cup of coffee when she finished her first.

"When, exactly? And...Who is the gamekeeper?" It was shameful, really. Sabine knew so little of her new colleagues. She would have to start nosing into people's business soon enough.

"Rubeus Hagrid." Severus replied with a slight sneer. "You may have heard of him before now... He is also the recently appointed Care of Magical Creatures professor.

"He is also, unfortunately..." And his tone made it clear that he did not think it was so very unfortunate, "Away on an envoy to the giants in the north. So some of your considerable talent at breaking and entering may be called upon."

He glanced at her over his coffee cup as he finished the brew and smirked.

"Oh, excellent. Another one of your dear friends," Sabine remarked with a sardonic smile. "I would be happy to be of assistance, and savour the opportunity." She took a deep breath and raised the mug to her lips, finishing the sample very quickly indeed.

"If you'll excuse my naivety, what purpose would breaking into this man's hut serve?"

Severus gave her a withering look, as if to say, _"That should be painfully apparent."_

"The man is keeper of the grounds. If anything out of place had appeared within the borders of Hogwarts - such as something large and bestial that crushes large parts of the forest at will - One assumes that he would know about it, and keep a record of such occurrences."

He picked up the coffeepot, refilled his own mug and held it out to her in question.

"Well, I beg your pardon." Sabine pursed her lips slightly, taking the pot from him to fill her cup. "I suppose you're right," she sighed after sampling the fruits of her labour once more.

"It should be interesting, at least," she said at random, after having mulled over her own thoughts for a while. "When did you say you would like to do this?"

"This afternoon after classes, preferably, and then - with your leave - we may indulge in another Occlumency lesson. I daresay we shall need the relaxation after a day of mental taxing." He offered a halfhearted sneer, then buried himself in his coffee and did not speak again until he had finished it.

"This would be the second day in a row I have kept you from breakfast, I would suggest that you go and have something to eat." He commented, effectively ending the conversation. At least, that was his intention. He had planning to do, and his first class was in an hour.

Sabine snickered. "I never have breakfast. Haven't you noticed? I have coffee." She finished her mug and stood up, leaving Severus to his mind. "My apologies again for the intrusion," she said as she closed the door behind her.

Severus thought about this for a moment. No, he hadn't noticed. But then again, neither did he, so it really shouldn't have been that surprising.

He washed the mugs, returned them to the cabinet that was their home and set off to prepare things for his first class, mulling over what might be found in Hagrid's hut that afternoon.


	28. Giant Induced Madness

"Please, allow me."

Sabine took the catch on the door of Hagrid's cabin in her slim hand and studied it for a moment, then tapped it with her wand. The lock immediately broke. "He's quite a simple man, is he not?" With a smirk, Sabine temporarily pocketed the device and opened the door.

Apparently so. The whole cottage seemed to be built for someone a great deal larger than the average human being, and Sabine concluded that Rubeus Hagrid must be a very tall, very fat man. Nevertheless, the place held a strange, rustic appeal- if one did not intend to stay there long.

Severus stepped across the threshold, the doorway looming over him creating an odd sensation. It was rare that he entered a dwelling specifically created for someone taller than himself. His lip curled slightly in a distasteful sneer... Hagrid's idea of decorum was not his own, no matter the Master's questionable (but practical) preferences. He would prefer to spend as little time in this place as possible.

Though it was rather intriguing, the musty smell of a place long left empty, dust and cobwebs beginning to gather about the large room. He was drawn to a rough table beside the massive bed, a large book lying atop it. Severus reached for the book with his long hands, freeing it from the confines of cobwebs that trailed gracefully down from the oil lamp that had at some point left burns and oil stains in the wood of the table.

Acknowledging whatever Sabine had said with a half-nod and a vague "Hmm," Severus turned his attention once more to the worn, leather-bound book in his hands. He ran a palm over the expansive, unmarked cover – the book was large, and appeared hand-fashioned from the tanned leather and coarse, creased parchment. He untied the twine that bound it and opened Hagrid's diary.

Even to the seasoned spy, it felt strange, flipping through another man's journal… Particularly because Severus himself did not keep one, and therefore had only a vague idea of what to expect. But with Hagrid away on his envoy to the north, and with time for their search running out, it seemed Severus had no choice but to poke his aquiline nose into places it would not normally belong.

Fortunately, the journal contained mainly a running recitation of daily events, and notes about the well-being of a series of unfortunate creatures. It struck Severus as amusingly morbid that he could find a practical use for each animal, were it to die. An especially long entry caught his eye; and he paused in his skimming to read it in full, focusing on the untidy scrawl with great concentration.

_"Went out into the forest to visit Grawp today. Hes comin along just fine. Looks like hell be ready to come up to the castle any day now. It was good of Dumbledore to let Grawpy stay on, after he found out and all… Great man, Dumbledore. Itd be awful if those ruddy Death Eaters got their filthy hands on him…" _

Here Severus paused, absently rubbing his own hands and casting a thoughtful expression out the window toward the woods.

_"Hes gettin so polite now, hed listen to them for sure…"_

Severus stopped reading, pressing a hand to his face. "Oh, you can't be serious…"He'd suspected the "object" might be a person… But did it have to be Grawp? Really, now…

A large stone fireplace, the shelves that held the crude, cracked dishes, and the enormous tables and chairs- all were thoroughly examined by Sabine as the lady snooped shamelessly about the tiny house. Her efforts left her empty-handed, however- the person who occupied this place obviously had little class or refinement, and a very small taste for literature, as there were no books to be spoken of in the place that she had seen.

Looking up from a large padlocked trunk, Sabine saw that her friend was looking thoughtfully out of the window, and that he had found a manuscript of some kind. She approached him quietly and moved to his side, her eyes darting back and forth as she struggled to read the primitive script.

"What is a Grawp?" she asked when she was finished, looking imploringly up at Severus.

For a long moment, Severus toyed with the idea of telling her that a Grawp was a rare type of mutated unicorn that resided only in the forests of Britain and feasted on the flesh of softshell crabs and flobberworms... But in the end, he decided - mercifully - to offer the bewildered woman the truth.

"Grawp is Hagrid's half-brother, a pure giant. He keeps the brute tied up in the forest. The only people within Hogwarts that are aware are Hagrid, the Headmaster, myself, and now you, though at times I suspect that Potter and his friends may know more than they should. At last report, Grawp was 'learnin' to behave himself,'" He drawled, mimicking Hagrid's rough speech - rather cruelly, his conscience told him. He ignored it thoroughly. "However, judging by the state of that portion of the forest, perhaps he has lost whatever manners he might have gained. We shall have to go to investigate, and find a way to safeguard the creature from the Dark Lord's minions." _My fellow minions._

For the umpteenth time black eyebrows raised and furrowed, their owner looking very puzzled indeed until the explanation began to dawn on her. "Potter and..." she muttered under her breath. Oh- Harry Potter- she had met him at Grimmauld Place and taught him a lesson or two. The legacy surrounding him had only been explained to her in brief. "If this... Grawp... is a threat," Sabine reflected slowly, the ridiculous size of the place finally making complete sense, "Wouldn't Mr. Hagrid have figured it out by now?" The words even sounded idiotic to her as they left her mouth. Obviously the gentleman in question wasn't the brightest sort. 

Severus sneered. "Hagrid was expelled from school for raising a monstrous spider, an Acromantula, that he called Aragog. I have reason to believe that spider still resides in the forest, under Hagrid's eye, and he considers it to be harmless. Five years ago, a student of mine reported to me that Hagrid was keeping a baby dragon, a Norwegian Ridgeback, in his hut. The dragon was named Norbert and apparently possessed a teddy bear. Two years ago, Hagrid taught his class how to care for what he affectionately termed "Blast-Ended Skrewts." The things were an illegal cross-breed, product of the professor's own meddling;" He said the word "professor" with an emphatic sneer, "And possessed a stinger at one end, flamethrowers at the other and a sucking mouth somewhere in the middle. He considered these creatures, I am told, adorable." He raised a brow at Sabine. "How dangerous do you think he would consider his own half-brother, giant or not?"

Sabine's jaw dropped significantly, was noticed and closed after a moment and respectively tightened as her entire facial composition twitched.

"This man is allowed to teach? Well, we'll just have to investigate, like you said," she confirmed, shaking her head and going to the window. "I am almost beginning to doubt some of the decisions made by Professor Dumbledore with regards to his employees."

Severus nodded, closing the book and returning it to its exact location almost without thinking... Force of habit. "Dumbledore has a habit of giving people a second chance." He commented vaguely, his tone quiet. "Take Lupin, for example." He added. "I had to brew the Wolfsbane for him the entire year, when he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"I don't know," Sabine sighed, turning from her spot at the windowsill to watch Severus replace the journal. She had, of course, never met either man, and so had little right to pass judgment, but something nagged at her until she was forced to wrap up her thought.

"Second chances are all very well and good, but the well-being of the children must always come first." She sighed. "Am I wrong?"

Severus blinked slowly, and then ignored the comment, deciding that it had not been directed at him. Turning, he cast his gaze about the cottage, searching for anything else that might prove relevant, and then returned it to Sabine. "Are you free to accompany me into the forest?" 

"Hmm?" Sabine had been caught up in her own thoughts, and her eyes snapped back to Severus from the fireplace upon which she had focused them on. "The forest? Oh. Yes. Of course." She nodded in a satisfied manner and followed her counterpart as he effectively billowed out of the door. "At any rate, at least we're a bit further down the road than when we started, right? …Right? Severus."

He was ignoring her, instead opting to stare at the forest as though he were examining it from a bird's eye view. For now, he was devoted to devising the most efficient way to reach their goal, with as little inconvenience to the both of them as possible.

"Severus." Sabine had been repeating her demands for his attention for several minutes, and was growing very impatient indeed. "Answer me, you."

"Remove your robes."

She immediately went quiet.

He turned his head to sneer at her. "The forest will be a hazard to your wardrobe. I am concerned for the material, you understand."

Clearing her throat skeptically, Sabine nodded and untied the belt of her robes, which covered a rather old-fashioned and dully-coloured skirt-and-blouse ensemble.

Once the two of them had discarded their more ornate articles for the simplicity of muggle clothing and replaced Hagrid's lock, they traipsed off to the forest- that was, stalked in the case of Severus and paced in the case of Sabine, who was not experiencing for the first time a severe lack of comparative physical stamina. Behind them on the barrel beside the door was left an impeccably folded set of black robes and a haphazardly strewn set of the same in plum, saved from the worry of wrinkles by an excess of starch.

To Severus, the forest was nothing new. He had explored most of it, been lost within it, almost been eaten one or thrice. As said, nothing new. For Sabine, however, who had grown up far from the forest terrain, it was a land of mystery, wonder, and revolt. Mostly revolt, after about ten minutes had passed.

"Oh, good _God_," she muttered. About half a foot above those blasphemous lips was a tangled mess composed primarily of black hair, old leaves and tree branch. What joy! She snarled at her own carelessness, reaching up to pick at the entanglement.

_Mother always told you to pin your hair tighter, she scolded herself. What with it constantly falling in your face… and now look! Just pray that Severus doesn't notice you…no…no! Turn back around! Oh, damn._

Now he walked back towards her, wearing an irritatingly amused expression and a pair of newly quirked eyebrows.

She despised him.

"Miss Trefethen, I always assumed that only insects were so easily trapped in spider webs."

She despised him even more.

"I see no such web," she replied with annoyance as she attempted to free herself. She was somewhat aided in her attempts by the skillful fingers of the Potions Master, who had in a matter of moments freed her enough to move.

"I do," he replied simply, offering his least charming smirk possible before turning and continuing on his way.

She paused. She tentatively reached her hand up. She stroked her hair.

Or what would have been hair.

She was touching web.

"Wretched!" she spat, retrieving her hairpins from the ground and hurling them away from her in disgust. Useless things they were now!

Severus seemed uncharacteristically alarmed. "Sabine!" he snapped shortly. "I'll not have you loose your temper. For all you know…"

There could be a large amount of small, furry pixies in the general vicinity of the place she had chosen to dispose of her pins.

The doxies were understandably upset, and chased the unlikely pair viciously down one of the animal trails. Or rather, Sabine was chased and Severus was all too happy to watch as a dozen disgruntled fey-creatures caused his friend to clamor down the path, shrieking and stumbling and followed shortly by the swarm, then by the casually strolling Master.

Cursing Snape and everything involved with him, Sabine was driven round a bend in hopes of evading her pursuers. The effort was fairly fruitful; the doxies were at least distracted enough to go in another direction. Unfortunately Sabine's grace chose to leave her at that moment, and also leave her face-down in a small bog.

_Damn Snape. Damn that tree root. Damn everything. And damn Snape._

Snape entered the small clearing just as his counterpart was removing herself from the muck, clapping his hands slowly and unenthusiastically. "I would like to compliment you on a marvelous production, Sabine. Brava."

He then proceeded to walk carefully around to the other side of the swamp.

"You wait!" the woman muttered as she rose from the mud and dirt, trying in vain to remove as much of the mess from her clothing as possible. "One day you'll do something hideously moronic and I'll be there to cheer you on." After that vow, Sabine caught up to the other professor and halfheartedly wiped a tiny amount of mud onto his robes, which he wiped off effortlessly before fixing her with a mild glower.

"I'll do no such thing," he argued, raising his nose in the air and quickening his pace.

"Will. Where does this giant live, anyway?" Sabine changed the subject quickly as Snape began to form another grimace.

"I have reason to believe that he is kept at the foot of one of these trails," Severus explained with an extraordinary amount of relative patience. "Although your idiocy has brought us wildly off of my preferred course, we will encounter him eventually. I believe we should stun him on sight."

Something in this bit of information seemed off to Sabine, but she had not the time to voice her concern.

Brushing a bit of foliage out of their path, her companion stopped and pointed. Ahead was a massive object that gave the appearance of a large boulder - or, it would have, if it hadn't been wearing clothing. The giant was slumped, its strangely small head drooping onto its chest. Its breathing was surprisingly shallow, though every so often it would release a snorting grunt or a long snore. Severus looked at the thing and voiced a derisive comment. "Charming."

He met Sabine's eyes again and aimed his wand.

"Extremely," she agreed acerbically, eying the large lump. It was somehow less impressive than she had imagined. Then, with a nod, she raised her wand, gave the giant a wry smile and waited to take the lead of her companion.

Severus raised his wand, looking at her, and then cried in a forceful voice,

"Stupefy!"

Can giants be stunned? Sabine asked herself, the reason for her worry beforehand dropping on her like a ton of bricks.

The giant slumped a bit more, allowing Severus a brief moment of triumph before another, earth-shaking snore issued forth. The Master blinked slowly, then scowled. "That did not go well." Raising his wand, he tried again.

"STUPEFY!"

No. No, they can't.

Grawp groaned in his sleep, then sat up, blinking blearily and looking around. His beady eyes, small in comparison to the rest of him, fixed on the witch and wizard with a look of bestial shrewdness. "Oh, bloody hell..." Severus muttered. "Any ideas?" He hissed urgently to Sabine from the corner of his mouth.

For once, Sabine was at a loss. "Can he be reasoned with?" she wondered meekly. Reason she could deal with. Sixteen-foot teenagers, not so much.

Already feeling stupid enough for having attempted to stun the giant - and it was he, Severus Snape, that so coveted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job! Idiot! In any case. He took a slow breath, the drawing in and exhalation of which took about ten seconds, which was just enough time for Grawp to decide whether or not he wanted to kill them. As the giant rose, Severus took a step back.

Offering reason to a creature with a brain that primitive would be an even greater exercise in futility, he reflected, and his firm hand closed over the woman's wrist.

"Come with me." He commanded. "Quickly."

As the giant stared at them and began his stomping quest to crush the little people, Severus all but dragged Sabine into the thick of the wood.

But he really had no plan. All their flight was doing was buying them both time to think.

Unfortunately, dense, dark forest combined with pursuit by a giant is not conducive to thought. The Master braced his hand against a tree trunk, bringing them to an abrupt halt, and glanced over his shoulder, seeing the ominous shaking of foliage. 

Foliage.

"...Could we trap him?"

"Wait. What?"

Sabine looked wide-eyed- and, honestly, slightly frightened. The giant population in America was next to zero (if one discounted Alaska and Arizona, and Sabine had certainly never been to either extreme) and, frankly, she was fairly certain she had been ill the morning that her Defence class covered them.

There was no time to think, though, because suddenly, once again, her weak legs were expected to keep up with a much stronger, faster entity. When she was finally permitted to stop she doubled over and panted heavily for about five or ten seconds, then shifted her eyes up and sighed loudly to feed her brain whatever air it still needed.

Trap him? Trap him, trap him. Straightening up, Sabine gave a critical eye to the surroundings. "I'm open to suggestions as to how we should do such a thing, brilliance personified. Perhaps a tree might be put in his way, but what good would that do?"

Severus pondered for a moment, his sensitive hears hearing the distant crash of snapping timber grow closer, and the more immediate sound of the woman's labored breathing beside him. Unconscious, his eyes still fixed on the waving treetops and the occasional glimpse of leathery, greyish skin, he removed his viselike grip from Sabine's wrist and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I believe there is a deep cavern beyond that stand of pines. If he can be lured in, perhaps the entrance can be blocked and concealed until the danger has passed."

_I'm rather of the opinion that the danger is going on right now..._ The voice in his head insisted as the lumbering footsteps grew closer.

"Good God, will you make me run again?" Unfortunately, Sabine saw little other option. She would just have to learn to breathe as she moved. Her eyes flitting from the aforementioned stand of trees and back to Snape, she bit her lip. "When he nears still more, we'll make a break for it."

Glancing down at the woman once more, Severus was acutely aware of the exhaustion and dismay on her features as the possibility of running again presented itself. The quick rise and fall of her chest belied labored breathing, and he reasoned that, if allowed to make the attempt of escaping on her own power, the proud creature would collapse.

"Good God, woman." He snapped. "Where are you from?"

And, without waiting for an answer to the demanding question, he bent and hauled the thin woman off the ground by her waist, tossing her over his shoulder with slight effort and setting off into the forest. Now if he could just keep her from putting up a fuss…

She really was not heavy at all…

The woman leaned over once again, sighing and allowing herself to breathe heavily, as embarrassing as it was. Of course, she could hardly compare to the Great and Powerful Snape. Wondrous man, with his lightening speed and powerful legs! Jerk. She wasn't used to being dragged around like a toy, nor was she to being chased by large probably deadly creatures.

Naturally, she was a bit miffed when the question came, and straightened up to look the man shrewishly in the eye. "Excuse me-"

And she was thrown over his shoulder like a decidedly not-so-effeminate wrap. "Severus Snape! Put me down! Abuse! Harassment!" These words were hissed, however, in such a manner as could only make them audible to the presuming teacher.

"Shut up, woman!" He snapped, and dropped her unceremoniously to the forest floor, however careful he was to ensure that she landed solidly on her feet. "One would imagine I was carrying you off to ravage you, with the fuss you put up. Would you rather I had left you behind to amuse the adolescent giant? Or had you forgotten that small, innocuous detail?"

Fixing her with a steely glare, he turned about, pacing the area and muttering. After a moment, he extended a single long finger in the direction of a dark shape, covered and fringed about with thorny foliage. "The cave is in there, and easily enough sealed off by magic. The question now becomes, how do we lure him in?" Silent for a moment, he glanced about before his eyes settled once more on Sabine.

"Live bait?"

"Shut up, Snape!" Sabine insisted huffily, patting down her robes and muttering unintelligibly to herself while he looked around. Honestly, the presumption of the man astounded her. "I wouldn't put raping and pillaging past you," was one of her comments placed under the breath.

_"Live bait?"_

Looking up with slightly wild eyes, Sabine found her throat running dry as she rasped her answer. "I refuse. I _won't_. Good God, Severus, there is no way you are going to put me in front of that beast and hope to snatch me away before it can impale me or decapitate me or...whatever it does to poor innocent women who just wanted to goddamn help in the first place."

_I wouldn't put raping and pillaging past you."_

Severus caught the barely audible comment, his ego torn confusingly between rage and amusement. Deciding that now was not the time to deal with that unusual blend of emotions, he ignored it, but did not forget. There would be time enough to address that later, if the matter came up again.

"I am well aware that you just wanted to goddamn help," he snapped, not abandoning the sarcasm in his impatience - the words came out in a perfect mockery of her American accent. But he tempered his anger, knowing that in the time granted them, there was little else he could do.

"Sabine," he said, his voice as quiet as was possible in the racket of the forest, "You trust me."

It was not a question. The woman had proven it long before this; he could only hope that trust would extend to the dangerous stunt he was about to execute at her expense.

Sputtering for a moment in Sabine-ish fashion, the coltish lady finally stood still, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she stared at Snape.

She trusted him. The statement hit her softly but meaningfully, and she immediately replied: "Yes." Well, that was a given. She did trust him, but Sabine was given to trust almost anyone. After a moment's thought on this matter, she let out a very childish: "Fine!" and crossed her arms. "What would you have me do?"

Placing a firm hand on each of her shoulders, he guided her out into the middle of the path, directly before the concealed cave, and ordered, "Stay."

Raising his wand, he created a soft, shimmering line, thick and strong, but invisible to the eye that did not seek it. Which was exactly his intention.

Darting behind a tree, Severus observed the giant's approach. Grawp slowed as he saw Sabine, standing, apparently unarmed and alone on the path, and the quickened his pace as the most peculiar expression of confused anger crossed his ugly features. Not paying attention to where his feet were going, as was his wont, the giant found his huge feet caught and then tangled in the taut, serpentine line of magic, and toppled forward headfirst, directly for the cave.

_Well, a slight misjudgment..._ Severus thought vaguely, as he launched himself onto the path. There was, of course, no time for the woman to leave the range of the falling giant's trajectory, and so she found herself tackled by over six feet of grade-A, English Potions Master.

"Umf." Severus commented, and sat up, aiming his wand at the cave just Grawp stumbled in, sealing it shut with a magical shield.

"My apologies." He commented, and offered the woman his assistance in rising to her feet, not actually meeting her eyes.

Now, what Sabine dearly longed to do was sit and pout, then inform Severus that he sucked. As it was, her voice and facial expressions were restricted first by the breathlessness that came with being bowled over, then with having six feet of Prime Professor atop of her, and finally with the aftershock of having once had said chunk of meat upon her person.

Anyway, she felt that such a situation called for a more dignified commentary. "I scorn you and your hand," she spat disdainfully, attempting to rise and failing. With yet another sigh, she grasped the bone-white fingers offered down to her and pulled herself up. "For no other reason than my admiration for your ability to cast a Sealing Charm in mere seconds combined with the rebellion of my calf muscles do I allow you to touch me," she informed him sharply, before turning to look longingly towards the castle. Or, where the castle might be if they could actually, you know, see it.

"I demand that you return me at once."

Severus smirked as the woman, unable to rise on her own, grudgingly accepted her hand. At her grousing demand, he extended the same pale hand in the direction of Hogwarts main.

"Ladies first." He remarked with a slight sneer. The expression was relatively kind, as sneers go. Though, he knew well, it would be counterproductive to both of them if he allowed her to lead the way in trust, so he kept close enough by her side to guide their steps safely back to the edge of the forest.

Glancing dubiously at her muddy attire (his, he knew, was not much better), Severus indicated the spot outside Hagrid's hut wherein they had stashed their outer garments. "Would you like to retrieve your robes, or just return for them later?" He asked in a voice of mild amusement, one brow ever so slightly raised.

Biting her lip gently, Sabine raised her chin as she walked and tried to assume an air of false dignity. For one she was filthy- entirely covered in mud. For another she had made a fool, idiot and all-around silly ass of herself that day, and thusly the very best thing to do was remain entirely silent.

After approximately three minutes, she began to complain loudly about the day's happenings and refused to stop until they had parked themselves in front of Mr. Hagrid's home. For a moment she thought, and then sighed exasperatedly. Her belongings would be muddied beyond her wish if she attempted to wear them over her clothing now.

"I will return for them at a later time," she said stiffly. "For now, I would take eight human lives for a bath and a cup of coffee. Goodnight, Severus." Thus dismissing him, she turned on her heel and walked with unnecessary quickness towards the castle.

Severus endured the woman's ceaseless complaining with more patience than was common, his jaw tensing every so often and his spine rigid with the controlled urge to shake her senseless. Granted, she had experienced a trying day, but honestly... He wished wholeheartedly that she had determined to remain in that state of stony silence that had begun the hike.

He observed her quick footsteps as she faded into the fog, and then followed. He would greatly appreciate a hot shower, a cup of coffee, and a healthy dose of brandy. Quick as he had been within the woods, the professor's wiry frame was not what it had once been.


End file.
